Just a Martyr
by Niharumari
Summary: Three days after the 1.28 showdown, word leaks out that Kira has been killed, and a whole new case begins, a race to stop the madman who plans to complete the creation of a perfect world. Blending angst and tension with humor and healing, this fast-paced story is told primarily from the perspective of Matsuda,and offers a realistic depiction of the survivors of the Kira case.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Please note, I am extremely dissatisfied with this chapter. As soon as I finish this story or as soon as I am able, I will do a pretty heavy re-write on this chapter. Stick with me; it gets better, I promise.**_

Just a Martyr

_A Death Note Fanfiction_

_"If of all words of tongue and pen,  
The saddest are, "It might have been,"  
More sad are these we daily see:  
"It is, but hadn't ought to be."_

_-Francis Brett Hart_

Chapter One

He knew that anything they dealt with after the Kira case would be completely boring, completely stupid.

The apartment was dark. It had to be around nine o'clock by now, but he hadn't bothered with the lights, and the sun seeped through the curtains despite the fact that he'd closed them tightly the night before.

Touta Matsuda sighed heavily and flopped over on his other side in bed. Maybe he could slide back into sleep, providing the nightmares didn't wake him first…

"_What was it all for then? What about your dad? What the _hell_ did he die for?" _

"…_You really want a world where people like him are made to be fools?"_

"…_And now that he's gone, you're calling him a _fool_?" _

"_His blood!"_

"_Aaagh! I'm gonna kill him! He has to die!"_

"_Matsuda!"_

_Bam!_

He gave a strangled cry and bolted upright, sweat running down his face and back even though the ceiling fan was blowing steadily in the middle of winter. He heard the garbled ringtone before he saw the little square of glowing white light.

"It was just the phone…just the phone…" he breathed. Groping around for the cell on his nightstand, he finally grabbed it and flipped it open without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Matsuda? Dammit, where have you been? This is the _fourth time_ I've called!" It was Aizawa, and he sounded a lot angrier than necessary.

"Hi Aizawa," he replied wearily, running a hand along his face. "Um, sorry…I'm… a heavy sleeper..?"

"_What?"_

Matsuda winced. "Come on, you know how my place is. Bad signal and all…"

"That's got to be your worst excuse yet, and that's saying something," Aizawa snorted.

He gripped the phone tighter. It was too early for this, and the man was starting to get on his nerves.

"So did you call just to yell at me?"

"No!" Matsuda could have sworn he heard Aizawa's palm hitting his forehead. He sighed. "Look, we're just going down to Ide's apartment to talk about what we're going to do."

"Do…?"

"Yeah. About the Kira case. How much we'll reveal to the public and all that."

"Oh." He heard his own voice tighten, so he forced himself to sound pleasant, eager even. "Well, I'll see you then!"

"Uh…Matsuda…"

He winced. Aizawa's voice had completely changed, all irritation gone. "Yes?"

"You doing…okay?"

He surveyed his dark apartment, mostly kept that way because he was still trying to pretend that the place wasn't quickly turning into a rat's den. Unwillingly, he thought about how exhausted he was right after getting up, in the middle of the day…all the time….It had only been three days since he'd shot his former friend, Light Yagami, but still…

"Of course," he lied, keeping the "happy vibes" on high.

Aizawa muttered something indiscernible and said, "Kid, you're a terrible liar. After the meeting, come with me to get lunch or something, okay?"

Matsuda held in a sigh. He knew what the guy's motive was. "If you insist," he agreed obediently.

"Yeah, I do. See you at ten." He hung up, and Matsuda stared at the phone like a hypnosis victim before finally closing it and tossing it on the bed.

Kid. Since when did Aizawa call him "kid?" He wasn't a _kid_. Is that what they all thought he was? He sighed again. _Of course they do. I'm just "Matsuda the screw-up, Matsuda the idiot…"_

_Matsuda, you idiot! Who the hell do you think you're shooting at? Don't screw with me!_

He yawned and scratched his tangled black hair, standing up and feeling the chill now that he was standing in just a pair of old sweatpants. Unconsciously, he ended up in the bathroom and didn't bother with the light.

Matsuda looked away, unable to meet his own eyes in the dark mirror. Turning the squeaking handle, hot water from his tiny apartment's bathroom faucet gurgled and splashed down the drain. He still couldn't look at himself in the mirror. He couldn't look at the person who'd shot Light. So he'd been Kira…so _what_?

He scrubbed angrily at his hands, red and raw from the water, grinding the soap bar into a sliver. Steam was clouding up from the water, pressing against his face, and he shut his eyes, gritting his teeth. Light had been the worst serial killer in history; it had been okay, no, necessary, to shoot him down. That's what everyone at the Task Force kept telling him anyway. He cared for those men, he really did – they'd become his family, seeing them every day for six years… but he didn't know how many more times he could listen to that phrase. They said it kindly, meant well, but it still couldn't erase his horrible guilt.

Matsuda sighed, bracing his hands on the ceramic sink and letting his head hang down into the steam, like a suffocating blanket caressing his nose. Sure, he hadn't felt an ounce of guilt while he was holding that gun, firing over and over again when Aizawa yelled that Light was even then trying to write their names in that killer notebook. Not even when he screamed for Light's death and fired at the young man's head in a blind red haze. If not for Aizawa and Ide and Mogi, he would have blown Light's brilliant brains out.

Realizing he was still standing there, Matsuda turned off the water and eyed the soft towel hanging nearby, but didn't bother reaching for it. His hands smarted from the scrubbing, but regardless, he continued to wash them incessantly whenever the thought came to him, which was often. He headed out of the bathroom and fumbled with the light switch, grabbing the new suit he'd bought after that day in the warehouse. Shrugging on the jacket, he wondered if it had been a good idea to burn the old one after he'd come home.

_Stupid… why did I do that anyway? Oh yeah… because I wouldn't have been able to wear it again…_

When had that guilt started anyway? He wondered, standing in front of the full length mirror, carefully keeping his eyes only on the clumsy fingers working at his black tie. Maybe it was when he and Aizawa were sprinting along the fence, following a trail of Light's blood spatters, desperate to do…what exactly? He still wasn't sure. Subdue him? Capture him? See if he was even alive?

Matsuda pocketed his cell phone and headed out the door. He felt himself glaring at the doorknob, clutching it tighter than he had to. He really didn't want to go to Ide's place; if he had his way, he'd just put on those sweatpants again and go back to sleep. But Aizawa had sounded pretty mad over the phone, and he didn't want to press his luck.

He slowly shut and locked the door behind him, and realized that the guilt had first crashed over him when he and Aizawa had found Light's body sprawled out on a staircase.

_Reality I guess does stuff like that_, he figured, jumping in his car and starting it up.

Out of habit, he drove into town, towards the huge skyscraper complex that served as the Task Force headquarters. Cursing, he ran a red light and turned around, only to realize that he was driving down the road to the police headquarters.

"What's _wrong_ with me?" he asked aloud, smacking the steering wheel.

And that's when he realized he had absolutely no idea where Ide lived.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he groaned, jerking off the road and parking at the curb, earning a loud blast from someone's horn. His hand hurt, but he fished his phone from his back pocket – of course he had to be sitting on it – and punched the redial.

"Yes?" Aizawa answered on the first ring.

"Um…you didn't tell me where Ide's apartment is."

"I thought you knew, sorry." His voice sounded distant. "We're at block sixteen, just past the ICPO headquarters. The apartment is tall with a bunch of windows…and it's got a brick entrance. You won't miss it. Ide's number 58."

"Thanks," Matsuda answered lamely, snapping the phone shut.

_Well, I can see the headquarters now, so I guess it's down the west street for me, since block sixteen is that way…_

He saw the apartment complex a lot quicker than he'd expected, and he stole a quick glance at his watch. 10:17. Not bad.

The sliding doors opened crisply and a blast of heat hit him.

_Nice place. Like a hotel in here…_

"Can I help you?"

There was a pretty young woman standing at the desk; Matsuda winced when he saw what she looked like. She had an uncanny resemblance to Sayu Yagami.

"Um…I'm looking for apartment number 58…" His face was heating up and he knew it was probably pretty obvious.

_Great, now she probably thinks I'm hitting on her or something._ Not staying in bed was looking more and more like a fatal mistake.

"Sure, there's an elevator just to your left, and 58 is on the second floor."

"Thanks." He gave a quick bow and made a hasty exit.

His shoes clacked loudly on the shiny wood floor as he made his way to the elevator, trying to stifle a yawn. The doors parted for him, and he stepped inside, mashing his thumb into the glowing "two" button.

He caught sight of his reflection in the polished brass trimmings and groaned. His hair was still tangled and standing up in places. A hasty search of his pockets proved that he wasn't carrying a comb or anything.

_Nothing like walking into an important meeting looking like a zombie_, he thought as the elevator dinged cheerfully and let him out.

He walked down the hall until he saw the number 58 neatly tacked onto the door on a copper square plate. Taking a deep breath, he knocked twice.

"You look like hell," Aizawa said.

"Thanks, it's nice to see you too," he quipped, inviting himself through the door.

Matsuda heard it click shut behind him, and habitually dropped into a small bow to Ide and Mogi, seated at a small table covered with notebooks and pens. Steam curled up from the cups of coffee pushed off to the side of the table, forgotten. He plopped into a chair and tried to ignore the other men staring at him, pretending that showing up to an important meeting half an hour late wasn't a big deal at all.

_Yup, completely normal…_

Ide had half-risen, his arms braced on the table. "Hey, Matsuda. Can I get you anything? Coffee?"

_So you really wanna be useful? Then can you get me another cup of coffee?_

Matsuda flinched; he heard L's voice as clearly as if he were there. For some reason, the thought made him sick to his stomach. He swallowed hard several times before mumbling, "no, thank you…"

He felt his fingernails digging into his thighs under the table, out of sight of the others. When he looked up, he saw the three trading looks anyway.

"Okay, then," Ide said uncertainly, sitting back down.

Aizawa suddenly materialized in the chair next to him.

"Well, Matsuda, now that you're here, we can update you on what we were talking about. We haven't gotten too far."

"Sounds good."

He watched Aizawa fish through the pile of papers, retrieving a small spiral-bound notebook. "Clearly, we can't tell anyone the truth. That much is obvious. No one can know about the notebooks or the Shinigami, and most importantly, the identity of Kira."

"Does anyone have to know he's actually dead?" Ide asked. "If we keep quiet, everyone will just assume Kira has gone into hiding or changed his mind or something. They all thought he was some kind of god anyway."

"True," Aizawa agreed. "We could say nothing. There's always that; we'll probably end up doing it, but we need to consider all the options and make sure nothing negative will come of it. I've had it up to here with everything that's been going on." He jabbed his hand into his forehead angrily.

Matsuda eyed the table, the papers and the ballpoint pens strewn about. He glanced down at the floor and saw several wads of paper and a pen or two there as well. He stifled a sigh; as usual, it was the Task Force making plans…and then there was him, Matsuda the reckless idiot who came up with a bright idea once in a while, but mostly just got into trouble, killed Kira, and prepared the coffee.

"What about the Yagami's?" Mogi asked quietly.

The name brought Matsuda back with a painful jolt as he jumped and smacked his knees against the low tabletop. He cursed quietly and rubbed his kneecaps. "Don't mind me," he muttered. "What _about_ the Yagami's?" he prompted.

His face was hot, but he dared to glance up at Aizawa.

"Sayu and Sachiko…what are we going to tell them?" Aizawa gave him a strange look, then sighed and rubbed his hand down his face.

Matsuda gulped and felt like his sweat was freezing over. He needed to wash his hands, right now. Sayu…she couldn't _ever_ know that he'd been the one to shoot her big brother full of holes.

_Oh god…_

His stomach gave a violent jump, and he knew he was going to be sick.

"Hands. Gotta wash my…gotta go to the bathroom," he gasped, jumping up and running to the open bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and knelt over the toilet, throwing up what little he'd eaten the other night. He stayed bent over the bowl, panting, his hands trembling on the rim, sweat trickling down his face. Something hot prickled the corners of his eyes and his hands felt covered in filth and blood.

_What's wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with me…? _

Matsuda stood up and glared at the sun coming through the little window, flushing the toilet and mechanically turning on the water.

_The hot water takes forever to come on…_

"Hey, Matsu."

He groaned when he heard Aizawa's voice on the other side of the door. At least the man had the courtesy not to enter.

"What?"

"Aren't we all invited to your little party?"

_Party? What the hell…?_

"Um…I'm coming out. Just washing up." He glanced down at the sink. "Oh man…" He added, cursing under his breath when he saw the blood – his own actual blood - trickling down the drain, turning the tidy white sink a sickening pink.

_Sorry, Ide… _

He turned off the water, leaving thin, watery spatters of blood on the handle. There wasn't a towel anywhere, so he grabbed a handful of toilet paper and cleaned up the mess.

"Matsuda?"

"I'm _coming_," he said tightly, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.

He snapped open the door and heard Aizawa curse.

"Geeze, kid. Try not to break my nose, okay?"

"Sorry," he sighed, collapsing into his chair.

The men eyed him, but said nothing until Aizawa sat back down and cleared his throat.

"As we were saying…is it agreed then, that we won't tell the Yagami's the truth about Kira?"

They all nodded.

Ide lifted his hand partly off the table. "Are we going to keep Light's death a secret? The Yagami's already know, and they've invited people to his funeral."

Matsuda looked over at Aizawa, who was frowning hard and shredding a scrap of paper with his fingernail. "No," he decided. "Too late for that." He shook his head. "But no one has to know Kira was at the warehouse that day. No one even _knows_ about that meeting except for us, Near, and the SPK." Aizawa looked at all of them in turn. "It's best that the Yagami's continue to believe that Light died the way L and all those criminals were killed: by a heart attack from Kira. We've already paid off the mortician to keep quiet about the bullet wounds, and his funeral isn't until this evening."

"It looks like we're just going to be keeping quiet about everything, then," Ide observed.

"It's looking that way. If we don't, and the wrong information leaks out, like Kira being killed at the warehouse…soon everyone would find out that Matsuda was the man who killed Kira."

_Yeah…it's…it's true..._

Aizawa frowned, like he realized what he'd just said.

"Not that it's true," he amended. "Everyone knows Ryuk the Shinigami was the one who killed Light – he wrote his name down in that damn notebook of his."

"I bet…I bet Light would have died even if Ryuk didn't do it first," Matsuda mumbled.

When he glanced up, Ide and Mogi looked away. Only Aizawa continued staring steadily at him. "You know that's not true," he said, his voice hardening.

Matsuda clenched his fists beneath the table. There was just no way he was going to let himself be sucked into another pointless argument. "Light's funeral… are we all going?" he asked to change the subject.

"I think it would look incredibly suspicious if we don't," Ide remarked. "It's at six o'clock, right?"

"Yes, it is," Mogi replied after consulting a paper.

Aizawa absently took a sip of his coffee, making a sour face when he lowered the mug. "Cold…yeck…"

When he noticed everyone looking at him, he added, "So we've decided – for sure -?"

Mogi started scribbling on a yellow notepad, while the others nodded.

"We're going to act like nothing's changed at all," Ide answered. "As far as they know, Kira has decided to stop killing, and no one knows why, and they never will. They'll never know of his death. As for the Yagami's…" Ide cast a glance at Matsuda, who pretended not to see it. "they'll be led to believe Light was murdered by Kira. And no one will be told of the killer notebooks."

"All right then." Aizawa leaned over and started tugging the mess of papers into a shapely pile. After stashing what he could fit into a case file, he stood up and bowed to the others.

"Thank you all for coming, and thank you, Ide, for the use of your apartment. If it's agreeable to you and everyone, I think we should use this as our meeting place, if we ever have to call another." He paused for a minute, his eyes going out of focus. "When we leave, we'll go in two groups with fifteen minutes in between, just like we came in. Mogi, you can go first, and I'll stay with Matsuda. I'll see everyone at six tonight."

"Bye, Aizawa," they echoed.

Mogi collected his papers and notepads, bending down to retrieve some of his pens and throw the paper wads into the trash. Then he bowed again and headed out, closing the door softly behind him.

"For such a big man, everything about him is quiet," Ide commented as he gathered up the coffee mugs and poured their contents down the sink.

Matsuda nodded absently, watching Aizawa pace back and forth in front of the doorway.

"I don't need to tell you to make sure you get all our crumpled notes and throw them out right away, correct?"

"Nah, I know the drill," Ide replied, rinsing the mugs.

Aizawa nodded and turned to Matsuda, still in his chair, staring at the table.

"And you're not off the hook, you know. You're still coming with me for lunch."

Matsuda looked up at him and blinked. "But it's only eleven-thirty."

"That's close enough," he said, rolling his eyes.

_Aw man, I hoped he'd forget. I'm not even hungry, and I'm probably broke too…_

Matsuda watched him resume his pacing, checking his watch every two minutes, until he finally said, "That should be good…we're heading out, Ide. Thanks again."

Ide had been wiping down the table, but stood erect and saluted. "You're welcome."

Matsuda dipped his head to him as they headed out the door and down the hall to the elevator.

"So…where are we going?"

Aizawa shrugged as they stepped into the elevator. "There's a decent place just down the street from here. Jemm's Diner or something like that."

Matsuda didn't reply. He was busy trying to think of how he was going to get out of this. Food wasn't the most appealing thing at all at the moment, especially after he'd retched in the bathroom. His stomach churned all over again at the thought of having to go to Light's funeral that night.

"What you said earlier..." he began, touching a hand to the back of his neck. "Do we all have to go?"

"Go _where_?"

"You know… the funeral."

The elevator dinged and opened, and they both stepped out and walked through the lobby, shoes clicking away.

"Sorry, kid, but yeah, you do. We all do." Aizawa's voice softened. "I know it's going to be tough for you." They were outside now, and he faced him, tried to put a hand on his shoulder.

Matsuda flinched back. He was really tired of this. "I don't want your pity. I know that's what you're trying to do with this stupid lunch thing too."

The reaction from the other man caught him off guard.

Aizawa snorted, "Yeah, that's totally it, Matsuda. I'm buying you lunch because I _pity you_, not because you've already lost a lot of weight in just three days, and certainly not because I'm trying to show you I actually give a damn about you. I'm doing this out of _pity_."

Matsuda locked his arms across his chest and stood there glaring at Aizawa in the middle of the sidewalk. He knew he probably looked more like a dumb little kid than ever, but he didn't care.

Against his will, he noticed how tired Aizawa looked, with dark circles almost deep enough to match L's rimming his eyes. The wisps of beard along his jaw seemed scragglier than usual, and his clothes were a little rumpled, like he'd fallen into bed a few nights without bothering to take them off.

"Matsu, I'm not trying to pity you, or insult you by implying that. Believe me, won't you?" He dipped his chin down so he could look Matsuda full in the eye.

"Yeah…" Matsuda sighed, felt his eyes burning as a shudder ran through him, leaving him dizzy. "But I feel awful…"

He felt Aizawa scrutinizing him again. "When was the last time you ate?"

Matsuda ducked his head away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I don't know…sometime yesterday or so."

"Sometime yesterday?" Aizawa echoed, his eyebrows furrowing together.

He shrugged. "I'm just not that hungry."

"Well, that's probably why you feel like crud," Aizawa observed dryly. Then he actually smiled a little, which surprised Matsuda even more. "Come on, let's get some food. I'm starved too."

To be polite, he forced a small smile in return.

"See you at the café'."

Matsuda nodded and turned, waving. He'd parked in the opposite direction, just down the road a bit. He found his car and got in, turning it on and listening to the radio yammering away. He sat there for a few minutes, just staring at the dashboard.

He didn't want to think Aizawa was lying about what he said, but somehow he knew he was. He'd seen the way he and everyone else had been looking at him, with the delicacy of one eyeing a man holding a gun to his own head.

_Are they worried about me? _He scoffed_. If they are, they should just…mind their own business…_

But still…

He slowly pulled out and into the busy street, rolling the window down and sucking in the icy air.

_What's wrong with me?_ He wondered yet again. He remembered throwing up in Ide's bathroom, and washing his hands so hard they bled. That had been a first. He remembered the cold sweat, the sickening dread at hearing the Yagami name. And he was angry at Aizawa for being concerned?

Matsuda rolled to a stop in front of a red light. For no particular reason, he reached over and jerked the dial on his radio, cranking it up way too loud.

"Screw my life," he whispered to no one. "Screw my life…"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Matsuda poked at his bowl of beef donburi, watching Aizawa sipping his tea across the table.

"You know, you didn't have to do this. I mean, right now, I can't even pay you back."

Aizawa rolled his eyes. "I know; you've said that already. Can't I get my co-worker some lunch without him making a big deal out of it?"

Matsuda shrugged.

Aizawa placed his teacup on the table with a clack and started running the pad of his index finger along the rim. "All right, you know it's coming, and you're going to be mad at me for talking about it, but that's just too bad." He leaned closer over the table. "What's going on with you? You've not been yourself lately."

"As I've told you before, I'm fine," Matsuda insisted, leaning back and crossing his arms. He couldn't believe he was about to be interrogated by the guy. He should never have answered the phone that morning. He should have just thrown it out the window or something, and gone back to sleep until forever.

"Stop lying to me, Matsuda. I can see right through it, you know. Look, you're sleeping all the time, you haven't been eating, and whatever you do eat comes right back up."

His breath caught. _So he heard me in Ide's bathroom after all._

Aizawa started picking up grains of rice with his chopsticks, one by one. "What happened that day…it wasn't your fault."

_I can't listen to this right now…I'm gonna explode on him, right here in this stupid diner…_

"Hey Aizawa," he said, trying so hard to sound cheerful, he heard his voice rise an octave, "I appreciate this, you buying me lunch and caring about a jerk like me and all. I really do. But maybe it's best if you just _leave me alone_. There's nothing to talk about, and if you think there is, I don't want to talk about it."

He stuffed a strip of beef into his mouth to prove the point. It was hard to chew, and he felt some of the sauce rolling down his chin. Roughly, he swiped at it with his fist and glared at the table.

Aizawa was silent for a long time. Matsuda found himself drumming his fingers against the table, his foot jittering a mile a minute.

"What the hell did you do to your hands?"

He almost jumped.

"My…? Oh, um…nothing."

Matsuda studied his bright red palms, noticing the thin traces of dried blood streaking his fingers. Mentally kicking himself for not keeping them hidden under the table, he groaned. He didn't even want to imagine the look on Aizawa's face; he could feel his glare drilling holes into him anyway.

He was mentally saying goodbye to the last remains of his privacy (and his dignity too), when Aizawa snapped, "Don't tell me you've been cutting or something." There was a dangerous edge to his voice that only served to make Matsuda angrier.

"I was _not_, and even if I was, it's none of your business!"

"Not my business?" Now they were both shouting; people were starting to stare. Aizawa lowered his voice. "Matsuda, _look_ at yourself, will you? You look like hell. _Worse_ than hell. And it's all because-"

"Shut up, Aizawa! Shut up!" Matsuda interrupted, jerking to his feet and clapping his hands over his ears. His head was pounding – it's why he told himself he was shouting: to be heard over the roar. "Are you really gonna tell everyone here that I'm the man who killed Kira?"

Apparently, he hadn't yelled loud enough, because by the time he realized what he'd said, it was too late.

Aizawa stood too, his face red and fists clenched tightly at his side, like that was the only way he could keep from punching Matsuda's lights out.

"I-I didn't…"

Wordlessly, Aizawa pulled a handful of bills from his wallet and carefully, carefully set them on the table, his lunch forgotten.

Matsuda glanced around, mortified, taking in the people who stared back at him, jaws agape. All chatter behind the counter had stopped. Everyone – the waitresses, cooks, busboys, the table of three well-dressed businessmen, and even the pretty mother and her two small children – were staring at him and Aizawa with a mixture of astonishment and outrage.

_Oh my god…_

Bile rose to his throat. Aizawa stood there for several long moments, motionless, before grabbing his long overcoat and striding off towards the door.

"Ah… wait! Wait for me!" Matsuda shouted, stumbling after him.

"Not now," Aizawa spat out between gritted teeth. "Don't talk to me, Matsuda. Of all the stupid, _stupid_ things you've pulled…" They were outside now, and he stopped so short, Matsuda ran into him with a yelp of protest. Aizawa turned, and looked so furious that Matsuda tripped as he stumbled back.

"Do you _know_ what you did back there? _Do you?_"

His head was spinning; he desperately tried to rationalize.

"There…there were only a few people-"

"It doesn't matter!" Aizawa actually stomped closer and grabbed his shoulders. "One person or one thousand, it's the same! Maybe nothing will come of it right away, but do you know what could happen to you? If this gets out, you're going to be killed!"

_It's all…true… Once people realize Kira was killed by a normal man, they'll start calling him a martyr… and I'm the one who killed him…_

"Maybe they won't say anything, or won't remember who I am…"

"Matsuda, didn't we agree at Ide's not to say anything? We were going to be quiet and not tell _anyone_ what happened!"

"I..."

Aizawa just snorted, not bothering with an actual response.

"I'm sorry!" Matsuda said, his temper rising with the realization and the dread.

"Yeah? Well, "sorry" isn't gonna cut it, kid!"

"Stop _calling_ me that!" he exploded. He stepped closer and got in the other man's face. "I have a name, so use it! Don't call me a _kid_. I'm not a kid, I'm not less than you or any of the others, dammit!"

Next thing he knew, he found himself crashing onto the hard sidewalk. His jaw smarted where Aizawa had slugged him. Matsuda looked up slowly and saw the man standing over him, his fist still raised, a look of shock on his face.

He raised ginger fingertips to touch his face – he could already tell it was going to swell up good – and felt his expression twisting into a cold mask.

"M-Matsu…I'm sorry, I…"

_Sorry isn't gonna cut it, kid…_

"Forget it. I'm going home."

Aizawa's hand (probably the same one that practically dislocated his jaw) appeared in front of him. Matsuda ignored it and carefully got to his feet, a wave of dizzy nausea sweeping over him. He brushed non-existent dirt from his pants, and squared his shoulders.

"Thank you for the lunch," he said stiffly, turning his back and walking off.

"Matsu, wait. Matsuda…"

"Get away from me." He didn't look back or turn around. _I'm just a fool, a screwup. Stay away from me; I'll only end up hurting you in the end._

His fingernails bit into his palms, warm blood seeping between his curled fists. He felt his vision blurring, something hot and alien trickling down his cheeks.

"Just stay away from me…" he said again in a whisper.

The roaring in his head was growing louder with every second. He managed to make his way to his car, fumble with the latch, and get himself inside. Numbly, he turned the key in the ignition but didn't pull out. The radio was going again, and he vaguely heard the chords to one of his favorite songs.

_So take my hand_

_I'll keep you safe_

_And never let you fall_

_Together, we'll go to hell and back_

_We'll make it through it all._

The tears came suddenly, and once they started, they didn't want to stop.

"Dammit!" he sobbed, pounding his fist into the steering wheel. The horn obediently emitted a long, loud blast. "Why? Why do I always screw everything up?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Matsuda rolled over on the couch, peering out from beneath the safety of the arm slung across his face to eye the glowing display of his digital clock on top of the TV. 5:30. If he had any hopes of getting to Light's funeral on time, he'd better get dressed and go.

But he didn't want to. He was dreading it and he didn't want to go at all.

By unfortunate and ironic chance, he'd happened to flip the channel to that bumbling station, Sakura TV. It was a cruel joke, considering all the Kira specials that had been aired on that channel, how he himself had been there to trick the "third Kira" into confirming his identity. As far as he could tell, there was some sort of debate on Kira's lack of judgment lately. It didn't really matter; he was half asleep didn't even hear half of the excited babbling of the news anchors.

He knew there would be a problem if he didn't show up tonight. He and Aizawa weren't on good terms as it was; he didn't want to think about what would happen if he wasn't present.

_But…I feel like crud… and I look like it too; he said so. I'm not fit for public eyes…maybe I'll just stay here and catch up on my sleep…_ He was completely exhausted; he had no idea why, but he welcomed the drowsiness.

Matsuda yawned and turned over so his back was to the TV.

_Yeah, that's it….there's no way I'm going. I'm just gonna stay here and maybe get some sleep…_

_"Aaagh! I'm gonna kill him! He has to die!"_

_"Matsuda!"_

_Bang!_

He jerked upright so quickly that he toppled off the couch. That stupid, stupid gunshot…it _never_ failed to wake him up. With a muffled shout, he hit the ground.

"Ow…"

Someone pounded on his door, and he jumped.

"Matsuda? Hey! What the hell are you doing in there? Open up!"

_Aizawa? _

"You've got to be kidding me…" he muttered, picking himself up off the floor.

_Of all the people I least want to see right now…_

He continued his silent tirade as he crossed the apartment to his door, unlocking the latch and opening it.

Aizawa's face was a dark thundercloud. He slapped his palm against his forehead when he took in Matsuda. "Agh I knew it," he complained. "I _knew_ you were gonna blow us off, even after we said that _every one of us_ had to be there tonight!"

"I'm gonna come!" Matsuda snapped automatically.

"Not dressed like that you aren't!" Aizawa's glare got even more fierce. "And if you don't stop lying, we're gonna have to start calling you "Matsuda, you liar!" instead of "idiot!"

Matsuda dropped his gaze to what he was wearing. After he'd gotten home, he'd changed out of his suit and flung the jacket and pants as hard and as far away as he could. Then he'd put on his sweatpants, washed his hands, and crashed onto the couch. He hadn't bothered taking off the pressed white shirt, which was now wrinkled and even stained with a bit of the sauce from lunch.

He felt the glare on his face; what the hell was his problem? Since when did he go around glaring daggers at the people he cared about?

Aizawa must have seen a change in his expression, because his own softened.

"Sorry for barging in like this. It's just…I don't know…the way I left things this afternoon…I guess I was…"

Matsuda frowned, trying to scrutinize the other man. _Did he think I was gonna kill myself?_

Aizawa looked away, and Matsuda knew immediately that that's exactly what he'd been thinking.

"And I'm sorry about your face." He tapped his fingers against his jaw, and winced when he studied Matsuda's more closely. "Nice tumor you've got there, ki…Matsu. Didn't you ice it when you got home?"

He thought back to how he'd felt when he stumbled into the apartment. Icing his face had hardly been on his mind. "No," he said.

Aizawa ran a hand through his short hair with a small sigh. "Look, it's already ten-of. We're going to be late, but I'll drive you."

"What? Why? I can take myself."

For the first time, Aizawa shifted uneasily in the hallway.

"You can…come in if you want," Matsuda added hastily, self-consciously realizing their discussion could be heard through the halls.

Shutting the door behind him, he began, "like I said, I can take myself. I can get you tea or coffee if you want…"

Aizawa lifted an eyebrow. "Do you actually possess any of that?"

_Matsuda, you idiot!_

His eyes scanned the filthy countertop and examined the shelves. He felt like a complete loser, a complete idiot. "Um…come to think of it…"

"Forget about the drinks. Just put on something decent, okay?"

_I don't need to be taking orders right now…_

"Go on to that funeral parlor or whatever. I'll meet you there."

Aizawa crossed his arms. "Stop being difficult. I'll wait. Come on, saving you some gas is the least I can do for this afternoon and all that."

That was true. The part about the gas, that is. He remembered telling himself that he had to fill the car up soon before it ran out of fumes to run on.

"Fine," he muttered as he walked away, bending to retrieve his pants and suit from the floor behind the couch. At least the black clothes weren't too wrinkled… Now he just had to figure out where he'd thrown his tie…

"Looking for this?" Aizawa asked dryly. The slippery length of black silk dangled from his fingers.

"Yeah, thanks."

Aizawa tossed it at him, except it fluttered pathetically to the ground. Matsuda picked it up and didn't acknowledge Aizawa's apology, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door.

_It's like I have no life anymore. I can't make my own decisions… this is practically how things were when I was under eighteen, before I got out of the house…_

He ran the water and slicked a handful of it over his hair, slid the jacket on over his rumpled shirt, and threw his sweatpants in the bathtub. He looked at it longingly for a second, but turned away and jumped into his pants. There was no time for a shower, which he suspected he desperately needed.

He threw the tie around his neck and hurried out of the bathroom, the end of the tie dangling around his neck, highlighting the un-tucked ends of his shirt. He saw Aizawa staring at him, and said, "I'll take care of it in the car." Fishing around for his shoes, he jammed his feet into them. "We're late, you said."

Aizawa snorted. "That's an understatement."

Before Matsuda knew it, they were both in Aizawa's car, pulling onto the rush-hour crowded street.

"Thanks for the ride," he mumbled, glaring at his tie as he tried to make it cooperate.

"Yeah, yeah, it's no trouble. Figured it was the only way you'd come with us."

Matsuda left his tie alone and stared out the window. They were going to a funeral. They were going to Kira, Light Yagami's funeral. Funerals were supposed to be for wrinkled-up old farts, or vague people whose names only crossed his mind once a year or on holidays. Serial killers like Kira didn't deserve an honorable burial; hell, handsome, successful young men like Light weren't supposed to be the murderer. And above all, people like Light shouldn't be dead. It seemed so wrong. He started to feel sick again.

_This is gonna be awful…how am I going to look at Sayu, let alone tell her I'm sorry, when it was all because of me?_

To calm himself, he took a deep breath that was so long, Aizawa glanced over at him.

"Now don't bite my head off or anything for asking, but…you gonna be okay tonight?"

_Yes. Why do you keep asking me the same things over and over?_

The words were ready to leap out of his mouth, but he remained silent. Maybe he just couldn't lie anymore. Maybe he was tired of telling his conscience to shut up.

_And if you don't stop lying, we're gonna have to start calling you "Matsuda, you liar!"_

So he just shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."

The bright city lights of Tokyo reflected off the windshield, winking and sparkling, lighting up the dark night. Matsuda pulled his gaze away to eye the heater suspiciously; Aizawa's car was old, and the heater kept sputtering off and on, like it was on the verge of dying. He reached up and felt along his jaw, probing the distinctive lump sprouting beneath his skin.

_Sure hope it's not too noticeable…_

Fumbling for the vanity mirror, he pulled it so it hung down, inspecting the damage critically. He couldn't help but groan aloud. When he was younger, a friend of his had had his wisdom teeth removed, and the boy's face had swollen up like a balloon. And now, that's what the left side of his mouth looked like, exactly.

"I'll tell 'em I got in a bar fight or something," he muttered.

Aizawa smirked. "Strangers might believe it, but Ide and Mogi sure won't. You're just not the bar-crashing type."

"I could tell them the truth," he suggested acidly.

"You probably should."

"Hm…" He pushed the mirror back into place. "But that would mean them finding out about my total screwup this afternoon. I don't want to worry them or anything."

"Oh that's not an issue." Aizawa waved a dismissive hand. "I already told them."

"You _what_?"

"Don't even act surprised. You know I can't keep something like that from them, especially when the consequences could be real, real unpleasant," he snapped.

_Great. Just great._

Matsuda slumped back in his seat and stared out the window. "Sorry. It's just…nothing's been normal since…"

"Yeah, Matsu, makes sense. But that feeling in itself is normal."

He thought he'd been mumbling, so Aizawa's reply surprised him.

"If you weren't acting a little weird, I'd be worried."

"You seem plenty worried now," Matsuda huffed.

"True," Aizawa agreed with a shrug. "But what we all went through… I mean, what kind of person – even a cop – can deal with something like this damn Kira case and still be perfectly okay in the end?"

Matsuda smiled a little in spite of himself. "_You_ seem to be doing just fine."

Aizawa's eyebrows met in a sharp, angry "V," but his expression slowly changed into a wry smirk. Matsuda eyed him and kept his resolute silence until he couldn't stand it anymore.

"What? What's so funny?" he demanded suspiciously.

"What you said." He left his answer at that, punching the gas to make it through a yellow light. The he stroked a hand down his fuzzy beginnings of a beard before he spoke. "So you think I got outta' that unscathed, huh? You think we all did?"

"You suspected the truth first," Matsuda pointed out, twisting the seatbelt around his finger until it began to cut off the circulation.

"Yeah, but I didn't want to," Aizawa sighed. "You have _no idea_ how many times I second-guessed myself. 'Light can't be Kira,' I thought. 'I'm going outta' my mind. There's no way in hell a kid like that could be the world's worst mass-murderer.' You know how much I hated myself for thinking stuff like that about him?" Matsuda saw him gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning a bone-white. "And when I found out I was right, do you think I was satisfied the way Near and the rest of the SPK were?" He slammed on the breaks to avoid flying past their street. They pulled off the main road and swung onto the side street.

"No, I felt like…I wanted to kill him. I wanted to wring his neck and hurt him and do all kinds of horrible, violent things to him not really for all the murders, but for what he did to his father. I wanted to kill him because of his deception, how he lied to us for so long."

The car rolled to a stop. Matsuda had been so focused on Aizawa, he hadn't noticed they were parked in front of the funeral home. His gut clenched up.

Aizawa switched off the ignition and continued sitting there, motionless.

"Once, Light may have been a normal person, even after he got a hold of that damn notebook. But later on, say a year or so, all that power consumed him and turned him into a monster."

_Despite that, he was still a person…and I killed him._

"We'd better go in now, even though we're a half an hour late, but maybe you and I can talk later, keep this going."

Matsuda was in the middle of unbuckling his seatbelt. He turned around and gave Aizawa a "what on earth are you up to" look.

"You know…at a bar or something. It'll do you good to enjoy yourself a little; can't say I can ever imagine you hangin' at a place like that." Aizawa eyed him sideways. "I don't think you and I – hell, _any_ of the guys – have ever gone drinking together. Just like regular people."

_It's like he wants to keep an eye on me._

"No, thanks. Really…you already got me lunch and all."

"Yeah, that went over real well," Aizawa snorted.

Matsuda shut the door a little too abruptly as he got out of the car. "You don't need to do this."

_I don't need your pity!_

"And who said I'm doing this for you? I'm just saying I could use a drink, and only losers crash a bar without a drinking buddy."

_"Fine,"_ he sighed in grudging agreement.

They walked up the stairs, and he hung back as Aizawa pulled open the heavy door.

The smell of the funeral parlor was cloying, sticking in his nose and making him feel like sneezing. There were dimly lit lamps hung in rows along the walls, casting strong, dark shadows on the floral wallpaper. A man dressed in a suit that looked like it cost more than Matsuda would make in three years stood by the high archway of the room. He dropped into a small bow. "May I take your coats?"

Matsuda stared at him a while longer before actually processing the man's request. He slid off his long coat and handed it to the man. Then he swallowed, took a deep breath.

_Okay…okay, I can do this…_

The sound of murmuring voices filled the large room, overlaid with sniffles, some openly weeping. Matsuda looked around. There were several small couches lining the sides of the room, tidy rows of chairs in the center. And in front of the chairs, the casket rested on a short white pedestal.

The odor of the perfume –whether it was the same they used for the embalming, or just the stink of the parlor – seemed to get stronger, filling his nose and head, suffocating all intelligent thought with its' pungent fumes. At least the floor was carpeted; his shoes didn't clack as he ever so slowly made his way to the front of the room. He raised a hand to his temple and rubbed it; his head was starting to absolutely throb.

Then he was standing there in front of it. He'd kept his chin rigidly stiff, so he wouldn't catch a glimpse of the casket's contents until he was absolutely ready.

_Are you kidding? Ready? I'll never be ready!_

He felt the touch of a hand on his shoulder, and jumped slightly, turning his head a fraction of an inch. Aizawa was standing there, his steady dark gaze never leaving Matsuda's.

"Go on and look down, Matsu," he murmured. Normally, Matsuda would have been shocked at the complete gentleness in the man's voice. Something in him wanted to obey, and he shut his eyes as he felt the muscles creak in his neck as he lowered his head.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and shuddered when he saw Light. The young man was dressed in a black suit, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders, but mostly highlighting the gray color of death that not even the skilled hand of the mortician could erase.

He knew Ryuk had been the one to kill Light, but he also knew that whether or not the Shinigami had written Light's name down, he still would have died. No one could get shot as many times as he had and not bleed out within a few minutes.

"I…I'm…sorry…" He felt Aizawa's eyes still on him, but that didn't stop him from reaching over and touching Light's forehead. His wispy auburn-brown hair had been neatly combed and pushed over to one side, but his skin still felt fake, like plastic, like death.

Dropping his hands to his sides, he felt them unconsciously curl into fists. He remembered the warehouse; he never thought in a million years he'd be standing before Light Yagami's coffin, apologizing for killing him. In the warehouse that day, he'd _wanted_ to kill him.

_"Light…why…"_

He realized his eyes were shut again; he was seeing himself at the warehouse, falling to his knees like a fool, unable to stand under the knowledge that Light was Kira. Then the gunshots started. They rattled around in his head, echoing painfully through his ears. And he'd been the one doing the shooting.

"Mr. M-Matsuda…"

He felt himself startle a lot more violently than when Aizawa had touched him. There was a small, burning hand on his arm, and he glanced over and felt his throat closing. It was Sayu, wearing a pair of long black slacks and a dark purple sweater than draped beautifully off her slim shoulders.

"Sayu…"

The girl's face was tearstained, her eyes red and sunken. She looked like she'd aged twenty years since he'd last seen her. When he blinked, he felt a tear of his own slip down his cheek. Roughly, he brushed it away.

"It's okay to cry here," Sayu murmured, twisting her dainty fingers in a long white handkerchief. "There's already been so many tears, I can't imagine a few more would hurt." She managed a watery smile.

Matsuda's legs started to feel like putty. "I…Sayu…I'm so, so…sorry…"

The room started spinning, the lamps blurring into golden blobs.

_I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I killed him…_

The words kept running through his mind like rushing water, trying to push their way out his mouth.

"Thank you, Matsuda," she said quietly, forcing warmth into her voice. "I'm glad you came; thank you."

_"I'm gonna kill him! He has to die!"_

He shuddered and jerked his face away from Sayu as the tears started. Like a broken damn faucet, they kept coming, and it was taking all his effort to keep his shoulders from shaking, to keep the guttural sounds of a wounded animal from escaping his throat.

He felt Sayu there, her long arms wrapping around his trembling frame.

_Oh god, no. Go away…please…_

What the _hell_ was the matter with him? He was going to her brother's funeral; _he_ was supposed to be holding _her._

_Screw my life, screw my life, screw my life! _

He thought it again and again, each time the mental cry becoming stronger, until it became like a scream, filling his mind and bringing the roaring back into his ears. He thought of how absolutely stupid he must look, a grown man standing there trying not to bawl, while a girl half his age held him close, trying to keep him from going hysterical.

He stepped backwards. Not too much or too roughly, but enough to make his point clear. He didn't want anyone right now. He definitely didn't want the sister of the man he'd killed hugging him. It felt backwards, totally _wrong_.

"Matsu?"

He heard the hesitation in Sayu's voice. "I…I need to go," he mumbled, hoping his tangled, shaggy hair hid his face. "Be back…soon," he added, almost smacking into a wall as he headed for the bathroom.

The tiny tiles that made up the floor were bright white, the bathroom itself painted a shade of pastel blue that he figured was supposed to be soothing. Stumbling into one of the stalls, he locked it behind him and slid down to the floor with a sigh. His eyes landed on the toilet paper rack in front of him, which went in and out of focus the longer he sat there.

He thrust his hand into his pocket, reaching for his cell phone and intending to tell Aizawa that he was done, he was going home. Then he remembered that Aizawa was the one who drove him here.

_He did this on purpose, that jerk._

Matsuda told himself that he'd reject his drinking invitation, only then he remembered that the problem was still the same: wherever Aizawa wanted to drive, that's where he'd go. The sick irony and cruel humor was doing weird things to his mind. His mouth itched, and he realized it was because his lips were twitching, like he was about to bust out laughing.

"I'm going crazy," he muttered as he stood up.

By the time he walked back to the parlor, he had decided that his interaction with Sayu was plenty socialization for the night; he wasn't going to talk to anyone else. He strode over to one of the small couches and slouched down in it, not caring what he looked like. He was in the middle of scanning the room for Aizawa, whom he eventually located talking to Light's mother, when he heard someone new speak.

"There you are. You vanished, and I wondered where you went. I was the only one who noticed."

Matsuda stared at the stranger. She was only a little girl, no more than ten or eleven years old. Her glossy black hair was tied back in a high ponytail, wispy bangs falling over her forehead, and she wore a dark skirt and shirt that seemed a few sizes too large. What was really disturbing about her was how familiar she looked, even though he was sure he'd never seen this child in his life.

"Um…hi there," he stammered. "Do I…have we…met?"

The girl spontaneously broke out in a huge grin. "No, you probably don't remember me, but I sure remember you. Me and my mama and my brother were at Jemm's today having a snack since we weren't in school because of Katsu's doctor appointment."

_Jemm's? Oh…no…_

Matsuda realized his mouth was agape. He snapped it shut and blinked. "I…"

"You were the man who was fighting with that other man about you killing Kira."

He swore someone stuck a popsicle down his shirt. "Shh!" he exclaimed loudly enough so that several people nearby gave him cold looks.

Suddenly, the little girl's expression changed, her eyes darkening. "So it _is_ true. Your reaction proves it." She took a breath. "Mama didn't believe it, and Katsu thought I was fibbing, but it's true. You killed him."

Matsuda was still gaping at her, understanding dawning on him. This was really, really not good- just what Aizawa predicted would happen.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't tell you my name. I'm Rina. This is…cool. I didn't think we'd run into each other ever, Mr. Kira-killer." Rina paused, cocked her head to one side. "That sounds funny," she said. "Mama says "kira" means "killer," so that means you're a Killer-killer."

Matsuda had absolutely no idea what to say, do, or think.

"And your name… you're…Matsuda…right?"

"How-"

"That loud man with the short hair and the fuzzy beard said your name a few times when he was yelling at you."

"Oh." His hands suddenly burned, and he looked down and realized his fingernails were digging into his palms again, blood starting to well in the marks.

"What'cha do to them?" Rina asked, dipping her head to his hands.

"Um…nothing. Just an accident."

He could tell Rina didn't believe him by the way she was looking at him.

_Since when did kids get so smart? Or is it just this one? Figures._

"Is that your surname?" she was asking now.

He saw no reason to lie about _that_, since she already knew it was one of them. "Yes."

"Mine's Takaya, which makes me Rina Takaya. What's your first name?"

"Taru," he lied automatically, giving her his old alias.

Matsuda shook himself. He shouldn't be telling this kid anything.

"Look, Rina, it was nice meeting you." He forced a smile. "But I don't know you very well; it's kinda weird for me to be telling you about myself." _Especially after you heard what I said at Jemm's_, he finished silently.

Rina shrugged. "Sorry. Anyway, I wanted to ask you: why did you do it?"

"Do what?" he asked like an idiot.

"You know…" she looked around and leaned forward. "Kill Kira."

He winced. "Because he was a very bad man."

"Bad?" Rina lifted an eyebrow. "He got rid of the bad people. He wasn't a bad person."

Matsuda swallowed hard. "Can we please not talk about him in past-tense? Nobody's supposed to know about this, okay?" His mind was racing; this little brat knew. She _knew_. So how was he going to make sure she was the only one who ever found out? Clearly everyone at the diner had heard.

"Okay," Rina replied obediently. She stared at the floor like she'd forgotten something, but when she looked up, her eyes had changed again from mildly curious to angry. "You shouldn't have done it. He wa-…_is_ a good person. Well, everyone always says he's a god, but I didn't think so. I mean…how do you capture a god? Police were…are always trying to get him and kill him." Rina fixed him with a piercing stare. "But everyone knows you can't catch and kill gods, big people in the sky. That's silly. So that means Kira must be a person."

Where is she going with this? He wondered. What is she trying to do?

"Rina, can I ask you a question of my own now?"

"Sure."

"Why are you here? How did you know Light Yagami?"

Rina turned away and faced the casket. Matsuda followed her gaze; there was still a small knot of people hovering by it.

"I didn't know him real well. Mama is Sayu's math teacher. They're friends I guess, so that's why I'm here." She looked at Matsuda again, genuine sadness in her eyes. "Light was always nice to me though. He snuck me a few pieces of candy when we went to their house for dinner. Mama wasn't looking, and Light told me I should take it to keep him from getting fat."

Matsuda felt his throat constrict even more.

_Just a normal person…_

"How did he die?" Rina asked.

"Kira killed him."

"So that's why you…?"

"I guess," he answered, shrugging.

_"Kid, you're a terrible liar…"_

Rina leaned forward again, peering at his face. "But Kira only kills bad people. There's no way Light was a bad person. He was too nice."

_Yeah, that's what I used to think too._

"Kira killed criminals, but he also killed some people who tried to catch him." He was speaking slowly, choosing his words painstakingly, else he slip up and tell her everything.

"So Light was trying to catch him?" Rina twiddled with a strand of her hair. "What did Kira look like? And…how did you get the chance to…"

She was getting too close. He may be an idiot, but he sure wasn't going to tell her everything. No one could know who Kira was. No one.

"I…I think I need to go…"

Rina tilted her head. "You're not gonna stay for the cremation and the burial?"

Matsuda felt his stomach jump. "No, I'm not."

_And if Aizawa has a problem with that, then I'll just _walk_ home._

He was already up, brushing the wrinkles from his suit. As he walked away, he heard her say, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Matsuda."

He didn't respond.

_Yeah, you too. And when I walk out of this funeral home, I don't ever want to see you again. Just stay out of my life, and don't make this nightmare any worse by remembering anything I told you._


	4. Chapter 4

_"Still holding on 'cause this is far from over, I won't say goodnight. My heart grows colder, waiting for the sun to rise again." _–RevTheory "Far From Over"

Chapter Four

The whole drive over to the Red Lily Pub, Aizawa had made a big deal of needing a drink, but now that they were here, he hadn't even finished his small glass of light bourbon.

"Have you touched that thing once all night?" Matsuda asked, gesturing at the full glass.

"Just nursing it," Aizawa replied with a smirk.

Matsuda reached up and tugged the high collar of his coat up around his ears. Bars just were not his thing. He didn't feel at all comfortable, and was sure he stuck out miserably; what kind of drinker hung out at a bar in a nice coat and a suit?

He fiddled with his collar, trying to get it away from his neck. When he loosened his tie, Aizawa asked, "Oh yeah, I meant to ask where you ran off to while we were at the wake."

"Huh?" He'd only drank half of his beer, but it was already clouding his head.

"After we…paid our respects, you vanished."

"Oh. Right," he remembered. He started to take a casual sip from his can, but choked when he remembered Rina, their conversation rushing back.

_Oh man…I am so dead…_

"I was…talking. Mingling, you know."

Aizawa rolled his eyes. "All I know is, you vanish for almost an hour to god-knows-where, and when you reappear, you run up to me and tell me you need to leave, _right now_. Just what was that about, huh?"

"Did _you_ want to watch them burn his body up and then stick it in the ground?"

"Mogi and Ide did."

"Well, good for them."

Matsuda was quietly wishing Aizawa would take a few more shots of his bourbon – maybe then he'd be too drunk to ask any more questions.

Too bad Aizawa knew better. "You still haven't answered the original question," he grunted.

"I was talking to a girl."

At the raised-eyebrow look he got, he hastily added, "A kid. Ten years old, eleven maybe."

Aizawa's expression didn't change. "We all figured Sayu was kinda young for you, but going for chicks under eighteen is definitely illegal."

"I wasn't _hitting_ on her," he exclaimed, mortified. "She's the one who came up to me."

"What'd she want?"

_How much humiliation can a person take in a single day without having a huge, totally righteous meltdown?_

Aizawa's face suddenly tightened, suspicion flooding his eyes.

_He didn't guess, _Matsuda thought in panic._ There's no way he could have guessed who she was just by what I said._

"Ah, _please_ don't tell me that this has anything to do with what happened this afternoon."

Matsuda said something real smart, like "umm…"

When he dared to look over, Aizawa had a palm across his face. "How did I know?" he snorted with a burst of near hysterical laughter. "I knew something would happen! Dammit, it's written all over your face!"

_Why's he being so dramatic?_ The thought held defiance, but in reality, he was imaging himself as an ant. Tiny, brainless, completely insignificant. Get enough of them together and they become a pest, except that he was so stupid, just one of him was enough to annoy anybody. What had he been thinking? He never should have spoken to Rina. He should have just smiled, nodded, and walked away.

_I'm nothing but a freak, a loser, an idiot. Just like Light said._

He closed his eyes against a vision of Light, screaming at him after he shot him in the hand. He was haloed by the watery light filtering through the huge windows in the warehouse. If he hadn't been shrieking curses and murder, he would have looked like…a god.

"I can't believe this, Matsui…"

_Matsui?_ His old alias?

_What the hell?_

"Um…I'm not Misa-Misa's manager anymore," he protested, completely thrown.

Aizawa ignored him, fishing around in his breast pocket for something. Matsuda watched him pull out a pen, holding it delicately, almost the way L used to.

"I can't believe you tell such stupid lies, especially in public like that. Didn't your mother ever teach you decent honesty?" Aizawa continued to gripe as he started fussing with a napkin.

Matsuda felt his temper rising. He'd taken dirt from Aizawa and the others for years, but usually only when he did something wrong. He hadn't done anything except talk to Rina, but for some reason, Aizawa was completely ignoring that, instead rehashing over something he'd already punched him in the face for.

"Why are you yelling at me for something I didn't…"

His hot retort trailed off. Aizawa had continued picking at the napkin, scratching at it, before crumpling it into a ball and dabbing it against his lips. But now, he set it casually back on the counter, and Matsuda stared at it, wide-eyed. Barely-legible pen marks were scrawled across the surface.

_We're being watched. Followed since we left the funeral home, I think. Wasn't sure until just a minute ago, so act casual. My yelling is part of the act. Go along with it._

Instinctively, Matsuda stuck his hand inside his jacket, feeling for his revolver. Bad move. Aizawa shot him a fierce look and snapped, "So stop lying to me, kid!"

Was he glaring at him for the sake of the act? Or because he'd reached for his gun? Matsuda wasn't sure what was fake and what wasn't anymore. So he just ignored the reprimand and took a long swig of the beer. He overdid it, and the acrid liquid burned down his throat. Hunching over the counter, he started coughing his lungs up.

_Oh yeah, I'm sure this looks real casual…_

Aizawa released a long, exasperated sigh. He was sure he heard him grumble, "kids…" A moment later he added, "Fine. Let's just get out of here." He waved the bartender over and slapped some money into the man's palm.

"Keep the change."

He shot Matsuda another dirty look. "Come on, Matsui. Don't have all night."

They stood and wove between the crowded tables to the door. Aizawa leaned close; Matsuda could smell the alcohol on his breath as he whispered, "I know you're thinking it, but don't look behind you. Don't let him know that we know he's there."

Matsuda was careful not to respond or make any obvious signs of agreement. He was distracted anyway, his head spinning dizzily. Who could be tailing them? Who else was at Jemm's that afternoon?

_Think!_

Rina. And her brother, Katsu, and her mother.

His mind was drawing a complete blank. They were outside now, the icy air biting his lungs. He patted his chest to check for his gun only to discover that he really didn't have it with him.

_Well, that's it, _he figured._ We're both dead, unless Aizawa has his with him. But even if he does, how are we gonna get home without letting these guys know where we live?_

It occurred to him that if their follower knew they were headed to the funeral home, they probably knew where they lived already.

Matsuda stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and tried not to look like he was scanning the dark parking lot. There were overhanging street lamps attached to concrete posts, but they didn't shed all that much light, leaving much of the lot in shadows.

He flinched when Aizawa used his keys to unlock his car door, the front lights blinking on once, then off, accompanied by a few loud beeps.

"All right, Matsui, now you listen here," Aizawa snapped, jumping in the front seat and slamming the door. "Your lying bugs me to hell, you understand? So just promise me you won't speak any more of them, and be done with it."

Matsuda stared at him, trying to find some clue in the man's rock-hard expression. Faking or not, he really did look mad, like he'd smack him within the next minute if he didn't say something intelligent. He was still calling him "Matsui," which could only mean he wasn't sure they were safe yet. Could they have tapped the car?

_Of course… "listen here…bugs me to hell…won't speak…"_

"I…I won't say anything, Aihara."

Aizawa nodded sharply, still looking angry, but Matsuda saw the flash of satisfaction in his eyes at hearing his former alias.

Matsuda leaned back and shut his eyes. What time was it anyway? Cracking one eye open, he saw that Aizawa's dashboard clock read 10:37.

_I just wanna go to bed. I'm too tired to deal with this right now._

"So the funeral…" Aizawa's voice broke the heavy silence. "You seemed to do okay."

"I guess."

"Tell me about that girl."

"What?"

"The girl you said you were talking to. What did you guys talk about?"

What was Aizawa doing? Maybe he thought riding in silence would make it obvious that they knew of the wiretaps. But why was he asking about Rina again? And did he want an honest answer?

Matsuda squeezed his eyes shut and decided to give one. "Just…Kira."

"Yeah? What about him?" Aizawa asked suspiciously, pulling off of traffic and parking in front of Matsuda's apartment complex.

"She was angry with me – like everyone always is – because I…didn't like Kira very much, and said he was a bad person."

"That so?" Aizawa turned off the car and started unbuckling his seatbelt. Matsuda eyed him. "What? I just need to take a leak. Can't I use your bathroom?"

"Uh…of course."

_If we can just get inside…_

Matsuda fought the urge to look around for their follower. He'd probably be in a car, hiding somewhere inconspicuous…

When the door clicked shut behind them, all the air left his lungs in a huge sigh and he slid down the wall.

"Ah dammit," he muttered. "This isn't good…"

Aizawa snorted. "You know it's not!" He had been facing the stairwell with his arms locked across his chest, but now he spun around and faced Matsuda, his eyes wild.

"That girl you were talking about, you guys weren't _just_ talking about Kira, were you? She was young you said. Don't you dare lie to me, Matsuda – she was at the diner this afternoon, wasn't she? She heard you and your goddamned big mouth!" He paused for breath. "And whoever was tailing us at the bar and the funeral home, whoever bugged my car, was probably there too!"

"Will you _shut up_?" Matsuda yelled back. "For all you know, this place could also be bugged!"

Aizawa's hand flew up, and Matsuda flinched, but it stopped right before his face. "No," he said, lowering it. "There's no way they tapped the whole building. There's a ton of apartments in here. They wouldn't have tapped the stairwells…"He trailed off, rubbing his temples like he had a migraine.

"How did you know?" Matsuda asked quietly. "How did you know we were being watched?"

Aizawa sighed. "At the funeral, you were probably in too much shock talking to that kid; I can only imagine what she may have said. So you didn't see the tall skinny guy with glasses. He had hair that was down to his shoulders, like some damned woman; it was pulled back and stuck under the collar of his coat. While he watched me, I watched him." Aizawa had started pacing, the clacking of his shoes echoing along the stairs.

"I saw him again when we were at the bar. He was sitting behind us at one of those tables. I figured it would be best for him not to know I still knew he was there. I thought he'd left after the funeral home; hell I didn't even give the guy much thought. But when I saw him at some point at the bar, I knew for sure we were being followed, and wrote you that note."

Aizawa glanced at his watch. "I need to go. Otherwise, he'll figure out we were talking."

He crossed the space between them to the door.

"Aizawa."

"What?" He stopped, not looking at him, his hand on the knob.

"If…if anything happens on the way back…" He realized he was spitting the words out from between clenched teeth, his jaw starting to throb from the abuse. "Call me or something when you get home, okay? Let me know you got there…safe…"

He felt like a fool. He waited for Aizawa to tell him so, to yell at him for everything starting to once again go wrong, but he didn't.

A ghost of a smile flickered across the older man's face. "Will it take four tries before you actually pick up?"

"Ha-ha."

The smile continued to linger until Aizawa slowly turned and pulled the door shut behind him.

Alone in the dimly-lit stairwell, Matsuda sighed and leaned his head against the cement wall with a jarring thwack.

_What am I gonna do now…?_

He wished with everything he had that he hadn't lost his temper and shouted the truth for everyone to hear that afternoon. Because of his stupidity, because he'd let his emotions get away with him again, he could be in just as much trouble as when they were on the Kira case. Worse, actually, since word was leaking out that he'd killed the world's beloved god.

His hands itched; he needed to wash them. He stood up unsteadily and started walking up the stairs.

_Hope Aizawa's okay,_ he thought, taking the steps like he imagined his grandfather would. _If he gets mixed up in this and hurt or something, and it's all my fault… _Matsuda paused, squinting at a crack in the concrete. Who was he kidding? Aizawa was out there, and pretty soon, he'd get home where their follower would see where he lived with his daughter and wife. Aizawa was _already_ caught up in the mess as deep as he could get, and it was, as usual, all Matsuda's fault.


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N: Sorry to make you guys wait over a week! I'm trying to get on a "update-a-week" schedule. _****_Enjoy the Aizawa p.o.v chapter! I'll be returning to Matsuda's shortly._**

_"You can be a king or a street-sweeper, but everyone dances with the grim reaper."_

Chapter Five

Damn.

He was still there.

Aizawa checked his rearview mirror again like he'd been doing approximately every two minutes since driving away from Matsuda's apartment. Whoever was following them wasn't too cautious. Or maybe he was just stupid. His face was easily seen through the clear and un-tinted windows; there was no doubt it was the same man he'd seen at the funeral home and at the bar.

_Dammit… what am I supposed to do?_

The turn-off for his street was getting closer; he'd be upon it within a few hundred yards.

_If I go home…_

He saw visions of his house in flames, bombs, snipers, Yumi and Eriko crying and shrieking his name.

No way in _hell._

But I can't just drive all night…

He tightened his death grip on the steering wheel and screwed his eyes shut as he made his decision. Punching the gas, he flew past his street.

_I'll get a hotel for the night. Or maybe a few nights, he decided. But there's no way I'm gonna risk hell knows what by going home. If I don't do this right, my family is going to end up dead._

The first hotelhe spotted was Narita View. Aizawa jerked his foot off the gas and swung hard into the parking lot. He cursed quietly as he pulled into a parking space and almost smashed into the cement base holding up a street light.

Icy air hit him like a brick wall when he stepped from the car. Everything seemed still and heavy, like the whole world was holding its breath. He slipped a hand inside his trench coat, fingertips brushing against the cold metal of the revolver tucked inside his suit jacket. Too bad it didn't bring much reassurance; he was still scared out of his mind. Resisting the urge to look around, he strode purposefully towards the hotel lobby.

He couldn't help releasing a small, relieved sigh when he passed through the automatic doors, a welcoming rush of heat embracing him.

"Good evening, sir. May I help you?"

Aizawa flinched and mentally kicked himself for it immediately afterwards. There was an old man standing behind the reception desk, eyeing him strangely.

"Uh…yes. I need a room for the night."

_Act casual._

That instruction had seemed so easy when he was telling Matsuda to do it, but now that he was on the other end, acting casual couldn't get any harder. He squared his shoulders and released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Sir? Excuse me? _Sir?_"

Aizawa realized he'd been staring out into space. Cursing himself, he forced his eyes to focus and strode over to the desk. "Yeah? Sorry, what?"

"Your card, please?"

"Oh." He fumbled for his wallet and handed the receptionist his credit card. The man's eyes were narrowed as he took it, scrutinizing him like he was looking for signs of drunkenness.

"You're room 552 on the fourteenth floor," he said, handing Aizawa his card and room key.  
"Thanks." He stuffed both items into his coat pocket and turned away.

"Hey, sir?"

Without turning around, he asked, "Yeah?"

"You all right?"

_Is this what I sound like when I talk to Matsuda?_He wondered, incredulous. He hoped not; it was annoying as hell.

"I'm…fine." He shoved his fists deep into his coat pockets and hurried towards the elevator.

Punching the button with the intricate number fourteen curling across it, he wondered how he was going to get followed up to the room. He hadn't noticed anyone back in the lobby, and the receptionist hadn't been speaking loudly when he told him the room number. Maybe he'd get lucky and have some actual privacy tonight. At least until the guy figured out where his room was, that is. With a sigh, he leaned his head against the polished wood of the elevator and wished this was all over.

_What am I thinking?_ He wondered as the elevator dinged much too pleasantly and the doors opened. _I've got a feeling it hasn't even started yet._

He passed through the long, carpeted hallway, stopping in front of room 552. Letting himself inside, he flipped on the first light switch he touched, the room jumping into focus in a bath of gold ceiling lights. His gaze passed over the bedside table, the tall window, and the single bed, but lingered on the telephone sitting on the nightstand.

_If something happens…just…call me or something when you get home, okay? Let me know you got there…safe…_

Matsuda.

_I guess I should call so the kid doesn't totally flip out on me. Eriko too._

He cringed. What he was doing practically screamed of an affair. At least, that's what she would think. His wife never understood his work.

Crossing the room, he stood over the little white phone and glared down at it.

_Here goes nothing…_

"Hello?" She picked up on the first ring. Not a good sign.

"Eriko, it's me. Uh… I won't be coming home tonight."

The silence was long. He didn't realize he'd been clutching the phone until he heard her voice again.

"I see…"

"It's…it's got to do with work."

"Mm, again," she added coolly.

He winced. "I'm sorry."

"So you'll be back tomorrow?"

_Damn it all!_

"No…I…I need to stay away for a few days." That did _not_come out the way he'd hoped.

He heard her sigh. "Dear, I thought…I thought we'd finally worked things out between us. But if you think you need some space, or you want to…consider a divorce, just please remember the children…"

His heart leaped into his throat. "_What?_No, that's not what I'm trying to say at all!"

"Then what _are_you saying?"

"That I can't come home right now because of work! Look, I'm really, really sorry, Eriko. I'll be back soon. I love you."

Aizawa slammed the phone back into its cradle before Eriko could argue. Sitting down hard on the bed, he let himself flop backwards across it, muttering profanities under his breath.

_Even if she hates me for it, I'm doing this to protect her. I don't care what she thinks. I'm protecting my family, even if they leave me in the end. _

The call had sapped the last remaining energy he had left to give; he had no desire to talk to Matsuda right now; the damn kid would probably be moping around, feeling sorry for himself, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with that.

He sat up and removed his coat and jacket, tossing them over the chair by the writing desk.  
There was a pad of standard-sized notebook paper lying open on the desk, and he stared at it, arms crossed.

_If I could just remember what he looked like, or get a better look at his face…_

He sat down and pulled a pen from his pocket, sketching a few lines where he figured the man's jaw would be. It got more sloppy and distorted the longer he tried, and by the time he got to the man's hair, he gave up. With an incoherent shout, he tore the paper off the pad and ripped it up, sweeping the pad and pen to the floor.

_That's it. I'm going to find out what the hell is going on, one damn way or another._

Aizawa jumped up so fast, the chair tipped over. He grabbed his coat and jacket from the floor and shoved his arms into them, double-checking that his revolver was still there. Barely remembering to hit the lights on the way out, he shut the door hard and half ran for the elevator. He wasn't really aware of what he was doing until he was striding through the lobby once again. The old man was still there, reading a book. He peered at him over the top of it, but said nothing.

Aizawa was trying to ignore the sickness in his gut and the pounding through his head. He knew this was a bad, bad idea, but he didn't care. Right now, he was more reckless, angry, and determined than Matsuda had ever been. The Kira case was supposed to be over, dammit! He wasn't going to let some bastard target him, his family, and his friend without giving him some serious hell to pay.

When he stepped outside, it seemed twenty degrees colder than the last time he'd been out here. The automatic doors closed behind him with a whoosh. There was a clacking sound as they sealed shut, and he knew he was out here alone. The only question was if the man was out there with him, or if he'd been inside the whole time. It would be nice if it was the latter, because then he could just get a look at him and then go back inside.

_No,_ he told himself firmly. _I don't just want a _look._ That's what I wanted earlier. I want him to talk to me, or do whatever the hell he's gonna do. I just wanna know what he wants with me._

Aizawa kept walking until he reached one of the overflow parking lots, way in the back of the hotel. There weren't as many streetlights here as there were in the front, the white bulbs casting a ghostly circle of light that lit a circle approximately eight feet in diameter.

_I want him to come to me, which means I need to be somewhere where he knows we won't be seen._

He kept walking to the very end of the lot, a lonely streetlight shining down from its tall post. Leaning against it, he started mouthing a toothpick he'd found rolling around in his pocket. He crossed his arms and leaned his head back, anything to add to his "keeping it cool" façade.

Something wet landed on his cheek.

Blinking, he looked up and realized it was starting to snow. The flakes looked like swarms of insects beneath the halo of white light.

_If he doesn't kill me first, maybe I'll end up freezing out here and turning into a snowman._

He was still chewing on that toothpick, so it surprised him when it suddenly snapped in his mouth. Disgusted, he spat it onto the ground and crushed it underfoot. Had he been grinding on the thing that hard? Or had he been outside a lot longer than he thought?

Aizawa stared out into the darkness, snow swirling around him in the gusts of icy wind. In the dark, and the cold and the snow, he was beginning to realize how stupid this was. This was beyond stupid. He was going insane; besides the incredible danger, did he think he was going to lure the man out here just by acting casual and eating a toothpick?

_What a moron,_he thought, shoving his hands into his armpits to warm them.

"I'm outta here," he muttered.

And that's when he heard the distinct clicking of a gun being cocked into place.

"Not yet you aren't, Shuichi Aizawa."

The voice was soft, a lot softer than he would have thought, but definitely menacing enough to freeze him in place. And it was cold, chilling like the air. It seemed to be all around him; he had no idea where it was coming from.

_Well, here he is, smart guy,_ he thought dryly, mocking himself. _Now what?_

"Don't move. Don't take a single, solitary step forward, do you understand?"

Aizawa swallowed hard. "Why? If I do, would you do me a favor and shoot my head off?"

He was realizing how dumb it had been to stand under the light the way he was. It was bright, and because of that, he couldn't see anything a few inches outside his little sphere of light. The man could be behind him, or to his side, or even right in front of his face for all he knew.

_If I ever, ever, call Matsuda an idiot after this…Oh wait, I forgot, this whole mess is his fault…  
_  
The man was speaking now; he could hear the smirk in his voice. "Maybe I'd kill you, maybe I wouldn't. Do you want to find out?"

Aizawa didn't move.

"I didn't think so."

"Look, just tell me…what do you want?"

The man snorted. "What do I want?"

"Yeah. You've been following me and my pal ever since we left the funeral home." He clenched his teeth and curled his face into the ugliest glare he could summon. "So what the hell do you want with us?"

Faster than he could blink, let alone move, a dark object rushed towards him and clobbered him in the head. It hurt so much, he couldn't even yell. Something like a length of pipe hit his back even harder, and he fell to his hands and knees, all the air rushing from his lungs. He felt a boot against his aching back, shoving him into the pavement.

"Don't you get mouthy, punk."

Aizawa felt another flash of panic. The voice was completely different than that of the first man.

_There's more than one of them? Oh damn…oh damn, I'm dead. It was a trap, they're gonna kill me…  
_  
He was gasping, trying to suck air back into his throbbing chest, but it wasn't working. One of the men grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked him backwards, out of the light. Iron hands clamped down on his shoulders, forcing him to his knees and keeping him from rising.

"What…the…hell…?" he panted, oxygen finally returning to him.

"Sorry to be so rough with you, but here, I'm calling the shots. I'm the one who will tell you everything you need to know. So I advise you not to do that again, or else my lieutenant here will have to strike you again; I assure you, he will not be so gentle next time."

_Go to hell,_he thought, unable to speak. He was shaking, snow blinding him, freezing as it gathered on his face.

"You can let him go now, Yuudai."

The grip on his hair didn't change. Instead, he was shoved forward, barely managing to turn his face to avoid knocking all his teeth out on the asphalt. He scrambled to a sitting position, staring up at the men, their faces shrouded in the darkness and snow.

"So Mr. Aizawa, you noticed I was following you. Very clever. At least some of the Japanese police members aren't as stupid as they're made out to be. Of course, that means you must have warned your friend, Touta Matsuda, which is why he didn't give away any incriminating evidence when you were driving him home."

"Who are you?" Aizawa spat, wanting to stand but knowing if he tried, he'd collapse.

The man snickered. "I apologize," he said with false politeness, sweeping into a dramatic bow. "I have forgotten my manners. I am Noboru. The very name means a rising, an ascension, and that's exactly what I intend to do. I will finish what our Lord Kira began. Thanks to you and Mr. Matsuda, I now have confirmation that our god is dead, and he was the one who killed him. When I finish cleansing the world of its filth, it will be born anew, beginning with the execution of Touta Matsuda."

There were probably a lot of smart things he could have said, and plenty of things he shouldn't have. He picked the first that came to mind. "You're crazy!"

Not a good idea. Brilliant splashes of white and red blinded him, Yuudai's rock-hard fist crashing into the side of his head. He took a punch to the mouth next, even though he tried jerking his head away at the last second. When he got hit again, it was hard enough to twist his upper body completely around, and he hit the ground in a heap. Warm blood oozed from his lip and dribbled down his chin.

"I told you not to get mouthy," Noboru chided, sounding genuinely hurt, like a parent punishing a child.

_Yeah, beating me to a pulp is cutting him to the quick, I'm sure._

"Now I want you to listen to me very closely, Mr. Aizawa."

A pair of hands grabbed him by his shoulders and hauled him to his knees. His head was yanked back again so he was forced to look up. Noboru's face swam before his eyes.

"Kira was the savior to this world. He was the Messiah returned, the same man foretold of in the religion of Christians. Are you familiar with the story, Mr. Aizawa? Long ago, the Christian's savior came to Earth as a god incarnate, and because he performed miracles and claimed to be God, they killed him. Do you see the parallel here? A god come to Earth; it happed before, and it happened here too."

"You're…" Aizawa mumbled, unable to finish his sentence. _You're crazy, you're crazy, you're goddamned crazy…_

"Insane, Mr. Aizawa?" Noboru squatted down, leaning into Aizawa's face. He tried to turn away, but Yuudai's death grip on his head forced him to stay in place. Noboru reached out and cupped Aizawa's chin between his fingertips.

"You'll soon see. Everyone will see. Kira may indeed be gone, but his legacy still remains, waiting for someone to finish what he started."

He figured it would be a good time to keep his mouth shut, but he had to know. "How... you…going…"

"To do it?" The fact that Noboru was finishing all his sentences was starting to get really disturbing. "Oh, you'll see, friend. You'll most certainly see."

Abruptly, Noboru stood up.

"Yuudai," he barked.

Aizawa was trying one last time to twist out of the man's grip when he was belted across the head with something ice cold and hard as steel. He imagined everything – his brain, eyeballs, nerves, spinal cord – rattling inside his head with the force of the blow. There was a sensation like the breaking of a dam and a deafening roar, annihilating all other thought and sensation. He was out before he hit the ground.

What the hell was on his back?

Aizawa tensed, panicking as he pictured Yuudai with his boot planted on top of him. He forced himself to stay quiet and calm.

_I'll just play dead. They must have hit me pretty hard with that thing…how long have I been out?_

The seconds stretched out like elastic, several minutes passing before he realized that he was alone. Everything was eerily quiet. He'd heard the dopey phrase, "so quiet you can hear a pin drop" but this was different. He swore he could hear the snowflakes falling, each individual one. But he knew that was impossible. He realized he was lying facedown on the asphalt, and that it was snow on his back.

_Wait…am I dead?_The thought didn't bring a surge of panic, like he would have imagined. In fact, if this was what being dead was like, it wasn't too bad. He wasn't cold, which was strange, if he really was covered in snow. He didn't hurt either, despite the beating he'd taken from the Yuudai.

_Yuudai…Noboru…those bastards…I guess if I'm dead, that means I won't be able to kill them myself. Damn!_

He wondered if it was still snowing. He strained his ears, listened hard. Yep, it was; he could still hear the flakes hitting the ground.

_So they killed me and ran off, huh? Losers._

Aizawa opened one eye a slit, but that didn't work so well, pressed against the ground and all. It hurt to open it anyway.

_But you don't feel pain when you're dead…_

Aw crap…

He still didn't want to move, even if he was alive. He let his mind wander, letting his thoughts distract him from his aching head, which started throbbing as soon as he realized he was still alive.

_I'm really, really sorry, Eriko. I'll be back soon. I love you._

Doing this to protect her…don't care what she thinks…

Matsuda, you idiot!

What the hell did you do to your hands?

When I finish cleansing the world of its filth, it will be born anew, beginning with the execution of Touta Matsuda.

Call me or something when you get home, okay? Let me know you got there…safe…

God, he was never going to hear the end of this. He took a deep breath but stopped abruptly because it hurt too much. He knew he'd been out here too long, and he needed to get up and get somewhere warm.

_You need to get up. On three. One…two…three._

He shoved his hands beneath him, palms open, and pushed himself over. A pained groan made it past his clenched teeth, his vision dancing, darkness against the edges of his sight. His stomach gave a violent heave and he scrambled to roll over on his side before he threw up all over the asphalt. He spat out mouthfuls of blood, gingerly reaching up to touch his face. He pulled his hand away quickly, spots across his jaw and chin scraped raw and bloody from hitting the ground.

He reached back to brush at the snow stuck to his back, but yelled at the burst of pain that came from the contorting of his shoulders.

_I'm a mess. How am I gonna get back inside that damn hotel like this?_

Aizawa slowly, slowly looked around, careful not to turn his dizzy head too quickly. He figured if he could get over to the lamp post, he could at least use the post to help him stand. Lowering himself back down, he lay on his side and pushed himself across the ground with his feet. At least they seemed to be working okay. Glaring up at the lamp post, he reached for it and pulled himself into a half-standing position. Fortunately, the world stayed relatively still.

He took a deep breath and got fully to his feet. The light spun dizzily, and for a second he swore he saw the parking lot dip and sway, like in an earthquake.

_This…is so…damn messed up…  
_  
He couldn't believe he'd been thrashed so thoroughly. It was beyond sad. What the hell had all his hand-combat training been for? He slowly leaned away from the post and started shuffling towards the building.

_We're cops,_ he thought with self-mocking disdain._ We have guns, and we can just shoot the bad guys. We don't need to know any self-defense. It's outdated. Guns are the way to go._

Yeah, right. He hadn't even had a chance to go for his revolver.

He was berating his stupidity the whole walk up to the hotel, right up to the time he walked through the hotel's doors, not even feeling the blast of warmth that came from inside. He'd let himself get taken; he'd completely underestimated them.

The receptionist was different. It was a younger guy who didn't look like he could be any older than Matsuda. He had dark brown hair painstakingly combed to one side, his eyes bugging out when he got a load of Aizawa. He knew he probably looked like some street-bum who'd gotten in a major bar fight. The thought made him grimace.

The receptionist jumped to his feet and leaned over the counter. "Whoa, mister, are you okay?"

"Doing just great," Aizawa replied with biting sarcasm. Damn kids and their stupid questions.

"Do you need a room?"

"I already have one, kid."

He felt the guy's eyes glued to him as he walked past and decided resolutely to ignore him.

The entire ride up the elevator, he'd imagined dramatically flinging himself onto the waiting bed and the fluffy pillows. Instead, when he got to his room, he very, very carefully lowered himself onto the bedspread, without removing any of his clothes, every muscle protesting the movements. The darkness of the room pressed in on him, and he was sweating despite the cool air. His heart pounded like Kira was murdering him with a heart attack; of course, he knew it wasn't possible, but it felt like it. And he couldn't sleep. He was exhausted, more tired than he remembered ever being in his life, but yet his mind refused to stop running, like it had been hopped up on steroids.

_Call me or something when you get home, okay? Let me know you got there…safe…  
_  
He groaned.

_No. No, no, no. I am not calling him. It's got to be way past midnight, one o'clock at the least._

It wasn't just the time. He knew if he called, he'd probably start screaming at the kid for the dumbest thing; he knew once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. He'd left the last remains of his self-control behind during the conversation with his wife.

Sleep continued to stubbornly elude him. He'd stopped sweating now at least, lying rigidly on the bed the way a person would lay on an operating table. It hurt too damn much to move anyway. He kept thinking of Noboru and Yuudai, wondering how many knew of what was about to happen, if anyone knew of their existence or what their plan was. He saw himself and Matsuda at Jemm's (it felt like an eternity ago), Matsuda jumping to his feet and yelling at him. He saw the kid knocked flat on the ground on the sidewalk, when he punched him out like the jerk he was. Some friend.  
_  
"M-Matsu…I'm sorry, I…"_

"Forget it. I'm going home."

Call me or something when you get home, okay? Let me know you got there…safe…

Aizawa groaned again.

"I can't believe this," he muttered, arm throbbing as he fished around his coat pocket for his phone.

The display blinded him as he flipped it open, white light spiking his eyes. He cursed quietly, and waited until it didn't kill him to look at the time. 1:38 AM.

_I'll call, and if he doesn't answer, then I'm done. Maybe then I can actually get some sleep._

It rang once. Then twice. By then, he figured this was stupid; there was no way Matsuda was going to be picking up the phone at nearly two in the morning. He heard the dial tone begin its fourth beep, and then it stopped.

"Aizawa!"

Matsuda's shout was too damn loud for him.

"Sorry, kid," he said, not even bothering with the automatic nickname. "I meant to get a hold of you earlier…"

"What _happened?_"

He didn't answer.

"Aizawa, it's almost _two o'clock _in the morning. What happened?" Matsuda demanded.

Aizawa realized he had absolutely no energy to argue.

_This was moronic. I can't talk to him right now…_

"Matsuda, please…I'll explain everything to you tomorrow, okay? I just…it's just…I…" To his horror, he heard his voice shaking. "It's not good, Matsu…It's not good," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden burning.

"I…I understand…" Matsuda's voice sounded far away and tiny, hurt and broken, like a scolded little boy. It was doing something to him, messing with his mind. "I'm sorr-"

Aizawa snapped the phone closed as hard as he could before Matsuda could finish. He sat up despite the roar of blood rushing to his head and hurled the phone against the opposite wall with enough force to shatter the thing.

_"Damn_ him!" he cried, falling back on the pillow, a shock of pain arching from his head down to his feet. "Dammit, _why_ isn't this over yet?"


	6. Chapter 6

_"Sweet is love when all is sane  
Sweet is death to rid the pain  
Cruel is death when all is well  
Cruel is love when all is hell."_

Chapter Six

Matsuda sighed and leaned against the frosty windowpane, ghostly sunlight warm against his face. Seated on top of the air conditioner in front of the window, he drew his knees tighter against his body and rubbed his aching head. A complete lack of sleep had given him a killer headache. There was no way he was going to fall asleep if he didn't know if Aizawa had made it back, so he'd stayed awake until two in the morning; it hadn't been that hard anyway since he was so keyed up.

He took a deep breath and felt a wan smile twitching his lips; it had been the first all-nighter he'd pulled since college. It might have been funny if he hadn't been so scared.

On the phone, Aizawa had sounded…horrible. He'd never heard his voice so quiet and taught, like someone in serious pain. Or maybe he was just too used to hearing Aizawa yelling at him; that had to be it. There's no way he was really hurt. Serious stuff like that just didn't happen to a guy like Aizawa.

Matsuda reached for his cell phone, sitting atop the window sill and flicked it open. No new missed calls, just like the last five times he'd checked. Tapping his fingers against the glass, he struggled to think past the throbbing in his temples.

_Serious stuff doesn't happen to a guy like Aizawa? Sure, like things can get any worse than being followed home. Don't kid yourself; something bad really could have happened…_

The thought made his empty stomach churn; he had a sudden urge to go throw up and scrub all the skin off his hands at the same time.

_He hung up on me last night, so if I call, he probably won't answer._

In frustration, he started drawing jagged lines in the shapeless area on the windowpane where his breath had fogged up. Then he thought of the others on the Task Force and could have hit himself for his stupidity.

_Ide. Mogi. Aizawa would answer one of _them_. _

Matsuda ended up calling Ide, the first name that popped up under his phone history.

"Matsuda?"

"Hey, Ide," he said, rubbing his forehead. "Um…look, there's kind of been a problem…"

"What kind of problem?" Though there was suspicion in his voice, at least he wasn't shouting at him the way Aizawa would already be doing.

"It's Aizawa. He…uh…we were being followed after we left the funeral home yesterday. He figured it out while we were at a bar, and we saw this guy tailing us the whole way back to my place."

"Yeah…?"

"I think he was probably followed home. Before he left, I asked him to call me so I would know if…" His voice faltered, and he pinched himself sharply to refocus. "It was eleven or so when he left, but I didn't get a call until two. He sounded awful. I think he…I have no idea what…"

He heard Ide curse quietly. "I'll assume this has something to do with what he told me happened yesterday afternoon at some diner."

"Yeah," he replied glumly, eyes pressed shut. "Of course. It was because of me."

"I didn't mean it like that, Matsuda."

"Look, just…where are you? Are you at the NPA headquarters? I only called you to see if you could get in touch with Aizawa. I doubt he'd answer me."

Ide made a sound of irritation. "He's giving you the shut-out, huh? Well, don't start thinking he hates you, because he's stiffing us up too. If what you said is true, I guess that'd explain it."

"Um…what are you talking about?"

"I'm down here at the NPA, and Superintendent Kitamura's replacement, this Satoshi guy, got on my case as soon as I walked in, asking me where in hell Shuichi Aizawa was, because he was supposed to be there an hour ago to discuss some promotion."

_And this is relevant to what I told you, how…?_

He wasn't up for this. Ide must really be taking it personally to be going on about it.

"Sounds like fun, Ide," he interrupted. "But can you just get a hold of Aizawa sometime soon? Personal favor."

"Matsuda, you're not listening," Ide snapped. "That's what I'm trying to tell you; I already _tried_ calling, and he didn't answer me either."

The irrational wave of fear came before he could remind himself that he'd heard Aizawa's voice over the phone a couple hours ago. He was alive. He was okay.

_But he could have been held hostage, held at gunpoint. He could have been forced to say some of that stuff to me…_

A horrible memory of Sayu Yagami, tape slapped across her mouth, with her hands bound by Mello and his Mafia gang flashed across his mind. Mello had sent that picture of Sayu to the Chief's cell phone last year, but he felt like he'd just been staring at it.

Matsuda swallowed hard.

"No…n_o…_" he muttered, his tongue like rubber in his mouth.

"You're telling me," Ide mumbled in agreement. "I didn't think too much of it, but after hearing what you said just now, and what you did yesterday…put it all together and there's a chance he could be in trouble."

"Wh-what should we do?"

There was a long pause. A _really_ long pause.

"Ide? Hey, Ide!"

"What in the world…no way…Holy-!"

He heard a lot of rustling and static. Not the kind you hear with a bad signal, but the kind when someone drops the phone or is trying to prevent someone else from taking it.

"Damn, I'm gonna kill him; that son of a gun just walked in the door and is trying to take my phone. Gotta go."

_What?_

"Wait! Ide!"

Matsuda heard Aizawa's voice: "Hang up, hang up! That idiot can't-"

And then the call went dead.

Slowly, he lowered the phone from his ear, staring at the screen in a daze. What had just happened?

Matsuda slapped his phone closed and grabbed his coat. He wasn't going to wait around to find out.

He practically ran down the stairs and out the door, cursing and resisting the urge to kick his car when he grabbed the door handle and it gave him a dry shock of static electricity. He sped through traffic and ran a red light, narrowly missing a nasty collision. Angry horns honked at him, but he barely heard them.

_I need to get to the NPA before Aizawa decides to high-tail it out of there. He'd do that just to get me._

Skidding into the parking lot, he about jumped from the car and ran into the large building that served as the headquarters. The receptionist snapped at him, but Matsuda ignored him. He hit the door of the main office like a storm.

"Matsuda! What the hell?"

"Aizawa!" His shout was just as loud. Two could play this game; frankly, it was a game he was sick and tired of. If Aizawa wanted to yell, he could get it back for once. "Don't even _talk_ to me like that! I wanna know what's going on! Tell me what happened!"

Aizawa blinked, like he was surprised Matsuda had talked back. He took a double-take of Aizawa's face. There was a mess of bruises and cuts along Aizawa's jaw, his lip puffy and scabbed over. Matsuda stormed over so he could get a better look at his left eye, which was a dark purple around a cut on his cheekbone.

"What happened to you?" he demanded.

"Why are you here?" Angry suspicion vibrated through Aizawa's voice.

"To find out what's going on, and why the _hell_ you're being so secretive!" Matsuda had no idea why he was so angry, and he tried to make it stop, but it wouldn't go away. "We're supposed to be a team, right? You and Ide and Mogi and me. Or am I not included because I'm just that _idiot kid_?"

"Okay!" Ide appeared between them, arms outstretched like a referee. "That's enough." He sighed heavily. "Aizawa, he's here now, so you might as well tell him. He _is_ a part of this too."

Matsuda returned the glare Aizawa was fixing on him; he could practically read his expression.

_Yeah, Matsuda's a part of this all right. If he'd kept his mouth shut, there would be no "this" to be a part of._

Mogi walked out of the bathroom, straightening his tie. He stopped when he saw the way the three others were looking at each other.

"Is everything okay?"

"Just fine," Aizawa replied tersely.

Mogi stared at Aizawa, and Matsuda could tell that he didn't believe him. But Mogi didn't say anything, and just took a seat and faced them.

Aizawa sighed and folded and unfolded his arms. He squirmed, like he was uncomfortable in more ways than one. "Fine," he surrendered, holding his palms up. "I don't know really how to start; this is such a mess. Like I was telling Ide, we have a problem. Some nut who calls himself Noboru wants to continue killing like Kira did."

"That's impossible," Matsuda snapped. "Near burned the notebooks."

"Yeah? Well, too bad it isn't that simple. I don't know exactly what he's thinking, but I'm only guessing he has something prepared, some kind of tool like the notebooks."

"But those things weren't made of anything on Earth, Aizawa. We all know that. There's no way you could recreate a notebook that actually works."

"I have no idea what he's going to use! But whatever it is, I believe him. He wasn't lying – he _does_ plan to continue this."

"Perfect," Matsuda muttered. He crossed his arms and looked right at Aizawa. "So what happened? How did you get this guy to talk to you? And where did he come from?" He hesitated as something dawned on him. "No way… he was the guy tailing us, wasn't he?"

Aizawa stared hard at the floor, like he was trying to remember something.

"Actually…I don't know if it was him. I never saw his face when he was talking to me. There was someone else: Yuudai. Noboru called him his lieutenant."

"_Someone else?_"

"Yeah. He showed up after Noboru..."

Matsuda got the distinct feeling that Aizawa wasn't telling them everything.

"What happened?" He asked quietly. "Not just about Noboru and Yuudai. What happened to _you_, your face?"

Aizawa's eyes darkened, his expression tightening. Then all at once, he smirked. "Isn't it obvious? Those two bastards beat me to a pulp, and I was stupid enough to let it happen."

Matsuda's stomach turned over.

"So…what are we going to do?" Ide asked.

Aizawa sighed. "The first thing we have to do…" For the first time, he looked down and wouldn't meet any of their eyes. "Is get Matsuda out of his apartment."

Matsuda blinked, swallowing hard. "What? Why?"

"Because of something Noboru said. Once he officially takes over as Kira and resumes murdering criminals, he's going to begin his reign with your execution."

"_What?"_ Ide exploded. "No way in hell!"

Matsuda felt his mouth hanging open slightly and didn't do anything about it, blinking listening to his heart pound with the volume of someone banging against his chest with a hammer. He curled and uncurled his fists, trying hard to bring on the pain, _any_ kind of pain that would wake him up from this nightmare.

_No…_

Then he got angry.

"Did he say why he wanted to kill me?" he demanded.

Aizawa finally looked up. "I think you know why, Matsuda."

"And if I died, would that satisfy him? Would he leave off his stupid plan then?"

"I just told you that he wants to take over Kira's place," Aizawa snapped, fire leaping into his eyes. "Nothing is going to change his crazed mind until someone puts a bullet into it!"

"So you honestly think if I turned myself in, that wouldn't appease him?" Matsuda's voice had steadily increased in volume until he was yelling again.

"No, it wouldn't," Aizawa shot back. "Nothing you do is going to change anything now, okay? So don't you _dare_ do anything stupid, and quit trying to be the damned hero!"

Ide jumped forward to prevent Matsuda from getting any closer to Aizawa. "What is it with you two today?" he asked in exasperation.

What the hell was wrong with him?

His arm was twitching, he had his left fist clenched so tightly. Was he really almost about to hit Aizawa? Matsuda took a step back and lowered his head, glared at the floor.

"I can't be here right now."

He started to walk away, and heard Aizawa snap, "Matsuda, don't walk away from this! We need you to be a part of this discussion."

"You don't need me."

_I'm just the idiot, the screwup…_

_Matsuda, you idiot!_

"Don't go back to your place," Aizawa called after him.

_Why's he still talking to me?_

"It's all right," he said without looking back. "If Noboru gets me, at least I won't be around to mess everything up for you guys, right? None of you deserve this."

Before they could protest, he shut the door behind him. He was careful not to slam it. If he had, the building would have shaken.

He was sick and tired of feeling sorry for himself. He was tired of everyone else paying special attention to him and talking to him delicately, as if he would break.

Matsuda was down on his hands and knees, stuffing wads of old papers and magazines into oversized trash bags. Old pizza boxes, half-empty bags of chips, and crumpled bottles of water crowded the top of his TV table.

_This place really is a dump. How could I have let Aizawa or anyone else for that matter see the inside of it_? He stretched and tried to rub a kink from his neck._ How could I have let it get like this in the first place?_

He swept the old food articles off the table with an angry brush of his arm and stood. Well, it was done now. There would be no more pity. No more apologies or pointless, meandering conversations from Aizawa or any of the men on the Task Force.

_I've got bigger things to worry about now. Feeling sorry for Light and myself…that's so stupid. How old am I anyway? Five? So immature. _

He strode into the kitchen and picked up a laundry basket lying on its side by the sink and started gathering up the socks turned inside-out, the t-shirts, and the occasional pair of jeans, throwing them into the basket.

_Immature? I'll show them. I'm not a kid. I'm not less than any of them. I'll help them with this case, but if Noboru even hints that my death would just end this, there won't be any hesitation._

What was there to really live for anyway?

There was a wadded-up shirt that was half stuffed under the couch, so he got down on his knees to fish it out. He threw the shirt into his basket and frowned when he noticed the calendar that had been under the shirt. Matsuda fished it out and examined it.

_I wonder if this stupid thing is even in the right year._

Absently, he flipped through it. As he'd figured, it was outdated, the year 2010 proudly affixed to the top. His eyes lingered on the page for January, brushing his hand across the little square of the 28th. He counted the days after: 29, 30, 31…

_Wait…what's today's date?_

The thought hit him hard. No way was today _the_ day.

Slowly, he reached for his cell phone. Slowly, he flipped it open. The bright display read "February 1st, 2011."

_No. No way... _

There had been so much going on in the three-day interim between January 28th and today that in some small part of his mind, he'd denied that February would ever come. He had believed that January would drag on forever in a half-waking daze of black and gray, thinking back uncomprehendingly at everything that had happened.

"_I am Kira, but also…God of the new world. So what are you going to do? Kill me here?"_

"_What was it all for then? What about your dad? What the hell did he die for?"_

"_I'll kill him! I'll kill him, he has to die!"_

He slammed his fist down on the calendar.

"No…no…" he murmured. Why did this happen? Why did Light do it? Why didn't he kill him? Why did he _try_ to kill him?

He stood up so abruptly it made him feel ill, the room spinning. Blinking, he forced himself to get it together. Out of habit, he grabbed his coat and threw it on over his hoodie, but he was moving mechanically, methodically, with no thought given. All he knew is that he had to get out of the apartment. Any resolve to clean it up evaporated. He couldn't be inside with the voices and the memories a moment longer.

Rain was coming down in sheets, but it didn't bother him. Matsuda shut the door and stood under the eaves, shutting his eyes and breathing in the rich, earthy smell of the rain. He buried his hands in his coat pockets and started walking along the sidewalk, not going anywhere in particular. He didn't know how late it was, because even though he'd had his phone in hand, he'd been too fixated on the tiny, glowing date to pay any attention to the time.

It was probably around six. The sun had just about gone down, the only light coming from the streetlights lining the sidewalk. Matsuda kicked at the thick mist curling around his feet, the golden glow of the lights giving everything an unnatural, ethereal quality.

_It's mocking me_, he decided._ Everything's too pretty. _

With everything that had happened to Aizawa, what he'd told them about Noboru, and with today being February…it just wasn't right. His legs trembled and he sat down heavily, head hanging. Water dripped from his hair and streamed down his face like tears he couldn't release.

The rain kept falling. It soaked through his heavy trench coat, his hoodie and even his t-shirt. It was cold, freezing almost, but Matsuda didn't really mind. He liked it, actually. He wished it were even colder; he wanted to be numb, he wanted to be frozen. In fact, if he could just die out here, he would, except he figured Aizawa would hunt him down and bring him back to life just so he could kill him himself. A wave of lethargy washed over him. If only he could sleep, and never wake up…

_Stop it! What the hell is wrong with you?_ _No more pity, remember?_He imagined himself screaming the words, as if being louder and more forceful would bring himself out of this mess.

With a sigh, he lifted his head and stared up at the streetlamp above him. He'd always liked how the gold light glittered off the raindrops as they fell from the heavens, soaking through his hair and trickling down his face, messy and cold and sad.

_It's mocking me, just like everyone else does._

"I don't care what Aizawa thinks," he mumbled to the lamp. "I _should_ be dead. I should have died along with everyone else at the warehouse that day. It would be better for everyone if I were. None of this would be happening then."

Even though he tried to stop it, he kept seeing Light's face shimmering in the water running down the street, in the drops falling from the sky. He clenched his hands into fists, as was becoming a habit, and watched them bleed, raw and sensitive from the cold.

"_Don't you dare do anything stupid, and quit trying to be the damned hero!"_

Aizawa was wrong. He wasn't trying to be a hero. When he was younger, he'd wanted to be one. It didn't matter if he was a hero to one person or a million, he just wanted to make a difference, he just wanted to help. The Chief and Light had been that hero to him. Soichero, the man he wished he could have become – brave, smart, kind - and Light, the person who was everything he wanted to be, and everything he knew he never would be - cool, smooth, brilliant…

But those two people were both dead, and now he knew better.

In a world like this, there were no heroes.

That's what Light had wanted to be, he realized. A hero, but on a bigger scale – a god. He wanted to fix everything, save the world, and start over.

_Light, you underestimated the conviction of people like Near and the SPK, and even the Task Force, _he thought sadly. _That was your mistake. Nothing you ever could have done as Kira would have changed their minds._

In the end, there were no heroes and there were no gods. There was just a world full of rotten people. There was just himself, Touta Matsuda, - utterly useless, a pain to all, and help to none – and a martyr named Light Yagami.

"_Kira probably knows what he's doing is evil. But he'll try to change the world even as a martyr, at the cost of his soul. That's Kira's brand of justice."_

Just a martyr. That's all he'd become in the end.

"_Nothing more, and nothing less."_

The cruelty in Near's voice rang in his ears. He felt himself trembling, and with a cry, he mashed the heels of his hands into his face and wept. He'd cried before, like yesterday, but nothing like this. He wanted to stop, he kept trying to stop, but nothing was cooperating. It didn't really matter; there was no one around to watch him falling apart. The people of Japan were all cozy and warm in their homes. It was just him and the rain – it's not like anyone else would be stupid enough to sit in it.

Matsuda leaned forward and put his forehead against his knees, arms wrapped around them. The sobs poured out of him in high-pitched, guttural sounds, wild, inhuman, agonized. He pictured Light and the Chief and L and Ukita and everyone who had died to end the Kira case. He felt Light's blood soaking his hands, even though he was vaguely aware it was just the rain. In those moments, he cried with an energy he hadn't felt since January 28th, his bones melting, his skin becoming one with the rain.

_I can't do this…I can't be strong. I'm not like them. I'm just…useless and weak. _

And he sat there beside the street lamp in the gathering darkness and continued to pour out four days of pent-up anguish and betrayal and fear.

He didn't notice that the rain was steadily falling lighter.

After a time, there were no more tears left to give.

Matsuda sat hunched over, elbows braced on his knees, chin in hands, watching the water trickle down the empty street. He thought he'd been outside for thirty minutes or so, but maybe it was really thirty years. Maybe Noboru was caught and executed and maybe Aizawa was okay and the case was all over. But he didn't really want to find out. Not yet. He wanted to put off reality just a little longer.

He stood and started walking, ignoring the pins and needles shooting up his legs. Moving in soaked jeans was a very unpleasant experience, the denim sticking to his legs like glue. His shoes squeaked and made little squelching sounds against the cement sidewalk, and his coat hung off his thin frame like that of an oversized, sad scarecrow.

He was numb and empty and emotionless. It was like everything he had left to give had been sucked out of him in the last twenty-four hours. Actually, it was a small miracle that he was even on his feet and walking around, considering that he hadn't had even one minute of sleep the night before. But he couldn't help it. He just kept wandering the streets simply because there was nothing else to do.

_Just like my life…heh…is that all it's become?_

Matsuda knew it wasn't a good idea to be hanging around the back streets of Tokyo at night, alone and without his gun or even his cell phone. But he couldn't go back, not yet. The apparition of Light's face still hung before his eyes, those sharp brown eyes staring into his accusingly.

_You killed me, _they seemed to say._ You're a murderer, just like me._

_No._ Matsuda scowled at the cracks in the cement. _I did _not_ kill you, Light. I shot you. The Shinigami is the one who wrote your name in that notebook. Not me. Not me…_

He knew it was true. So why did it still bother him so much? Why couldn't he sleep without those terrible dreams haunting him every night, why did he always feel Light's blood streaming between his fingers?

Matsuda didn't realize he had stopped until a warm flood of light spilled out into the gloom, shining upon him like a spotlight.

He looked up in surprise, held a hand before his eyes, but didn't miss the slender figure standing silhouetted in the doorway.

"M-Matsuda? Why are you here?"

It was Sayu.

A lump sprang to his throat.

_God no…Of all people…_

"What are you doing out in this weather? It's miserable." She sighed and didn't give him a chance to continue. "Never mind…I guess it's not my business. I was actually going to stop by your place tomorrow morning."

Matsuda lowered his hand and blinked stupidly. "Why?"

"Because…we need to talk…" her voice suddenly trembled. "I hear you met the Takaya's at the funeral yesterday. Rina Takaya."

He wanted to die right there, quick and painfully.

_Oh god…what did that brat say? What did that girl tell these people?_


	7. Chapter 7

Matsuda was one hundred percent sure he couldn't have looked any dumber. Water was still trickling off his clothes, the fabric slick and clinging to him like he'd been shoved into a swimming pool. His hair was plastered to his forehead, dripping water into his eyes.

"Matsuda? You…you're soaked. Come in, please?" It probably wasn't supposed to be a question, but her voice tilted up all the same.

_Snap out of it,_ he ordered himself, trying to conjure up an image of a boot giving himself a sharp kick.

"Yeah, thanks."

Sayu shifted sideways at the doorway to let him through. After removing his shoes, he dropped into a habitual bow. She returned the gesture and walked into the kitchen, and Matsuda followed her like a pathetic lost animal.

The house was dark. The only light at all, really, came from the large, simplistic light fixture hanging over the kitchen table. He told himself that it did not, in any way, resemble an interrogation chamber.

_Stop it._

He watched Sayu perch woodenly in a chair, but didn't sit himself until she motioned at a chair. She was silent for a long time. A bead of sweat ran down his face; he couldn't look her in the eye. Instead, his gaze wandered around the Yagami home, remembering now how the living room and kitchen were connected, and therefore, the main television was just a few feet away.

_I wonder if this was where Light would sit and watch the news, picking out criminals to kill._

He squeezed his nails against his palms several times, a sharp burst of pain in an attempt to make himself quit thinking. Only he would think like that – stupid, sick mind…

"So…Matsuda…"

He almost flinched when Sayu placed a cup of tea before him with hardly a clatter. When had she even stood up?

"Oh… thanks," he mumbled, trying to pump up the happy vibes. Even he could tell he was failing miserably.

_So do better._

He tried again. "Your mom…where is she? And why's it so…dark in here?"

"Depressing might be a better word," she suggested, with a sigh, turning her teacup around between her hands. She sighed. "Mom's been sleeping a lot. She goes to bed earlier every night; the first day after Light… it was eight-thirty, then seven, and now she'll sleep as early as five or six, and she doesn't get up until almost lunchtime."

_She sounds a lot like…me…_ Matsuda swallowed and dropped his eyes to his tea. He understood Sachiko, could relate completely to the desperate desire to just stay in bed forever, and felt a rush of sympathy for her.

Sayu suddenly straightened and cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I ah…don't mean to whine."

"You're not…not at all."

"I guess." She shrugged. For some reason, he suddenly smelled something sweet and almost fruity; he guessed it was her shampoo, like she'd just taken a shower. Now that he was out of the rain, he could smell himself too, the sour, distinct "wet dog" smell that was mostly in his hair but also in his coat and hoodie and his jeans. He imagined how lame he must look to her, and he squirmed uncomfortably.

"Anyway…this wasn't why I wanted to talk to you."

Matsuda jumped.

_Oh man…here it comes…_

Sayu hesitated a minute before speaking. "Like I said outside, you met Rina at Light's memorial service. She told me about you after the funeral, just before she left."

"What…exactly…did she tell you?" He stared unseeing into his teacup and gripped the edges of his chair.

"She said…" Sayu's voice broke, and he looked up to see a tear slide down her pale cheek. Then she jumped up and her knee hit the table, knocking her cup over. Matsuda was too surprised to shout. Sayu was trembling like a leaf as she walked over to where he was seated and stared down at him.

"She said that Kira was dead, and you were the man who killed him," she blurted out, falling to her knees.

"Sayu!" he exclaimed. What the hell was going on?

"No, I'm sorry," she sniffled, hastily rubbing at her eyes. "Matsuda…it's just… Kira…dead. And you killed him. Don't you understand? You killed the monster responsible for my father and brother's deaths." She was crying harder now, but he knew not all her tears were of gratitude. "You…you killed him, and I don't know how I can ever repay you."

Automatically, he slid off the chair and knelt down, and she clung to him. He felt her shaking, but she didn't cry. Sayu stiffened and pulled away a few moments later.

"Sorry," she sighed.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I didn't mean to be a baby. You don't need to see me like that."

Matsuda thought about how he'd been crying on the sidewalk a few minutes ago and winced. "It's…fine."

They were still kneeling on the floor, like neither of them were willing to stand again. He wondered if Sayu saw the emotional parallel. She started twiddling with her hair.

"What I was trying to say…is that if you ever, ever need anything, I'll help. I'm serious, Matsuda. You just have to ask." She touched his shoulder, and it was enough to make him look right in her big brown eyes. They were dark with unusual seriousness and intensity; he got the feeling that she really was willing to do anything he would ask of her.

Not that he ever would, of course. There was no way he was going to let her get tangled up in all this.

He took a deep breath. "You say you'll do anything? Then promise me you won't ever tell anyone that I killed Kira. You can't even tell your mom, okay?"

Sayu bit her lip hard; he could pretty much read the thoughts through her expression.

"Because then there'd be people who'd want to kill you for what you did, right?"

"_He's going to begin his reign with your execution."_

Matsuda flinched. "Yeah, exactly."

She stared at him for a long couple of seconds, and he worried that his last thought had somehow been broadcasted all over his face. He had a strange feeling he'd been through this before.

_Rina. Yeah, the way Sayu's scrutinizing me…it feels the same as when I was talking to Rina. I can't let her figure anything out…_

Matsuda slowly stood up, holding out a hand for Sayu. She gave him a questioning stare, but let him grasp her warm fingers and pull her to her feet.

"Thanks for everything." He tapped a finger against his now-cold cup of tea. "And I don't mean for bringing me in out of the rain. What you said…it means a lot."

A tiny smile ghosted across her face. The darkness of the room coupled with the shadows from the single light made her look older somehow, like she'd aged years in a split second.

"I don't think I ever properly thanked you for coming to Light's funeral. I needed your strength, and you were there. You were really close to him and Dad…I know it was hard for you."

An almost-demonic image of Light in the casket flashed across his mind.

_Yeah, no kidding…_

Then the phone rang, shattering the silence.

"A restricted number?" she asked after she'd crossed the room to the kitchen counter.

Uncomfortably, Matsuda was reminded of how Near and Mello and pretty much everyone they'd talked to during the Kira case had used unidentified numbers to communicate.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Aizawa?" Her voice tilted up with uneasy surprise. "Yes, this is Sayu…"

He clenched his jaw. What the hell was Aizawa's problem? Couldn't he just wait until he got back to his apartment and answered his cell?

"Um…he wants to talk to you."

_I'm gonna kill him,_ he thought mutinously, trying not to stomp over to Sayu.

"Yeah?"

"Get away from her."

"_What?_"

"Get away from Sayu right now. I don't want her to hear any of this."

"I can't," he snapped. "This is a landline."

Aizawa cursed. "Then get her to leave!"

Matsuda sighed and lowered the receiver. "Sayu, can you step into the other room? It's uh…police stuff and all…"

She blinked. "Sure."

He watched her walk upstairs before he spoke into the phone again. "Okay, she's gone. Now what's the big idea? Why are you even calling the Yagami's phone? Couldn't you wait until I got back to my-"

"There's no place for you to go _back_ to, Matsuda! Noboru and that other bastard from hell torched it!" Aizawa shouted.

He straightened. Surely he'd heard wrong. "No... no way…you're joking, right?" he asked weakly.

"Denial won't help," Aizawa snapped. "They burned it up. Dumped a ton of gas all over, and turned your apartment into a fireball."

"But… the complex…it was really big…they couldn't have blown the whole place up…"

"Yeah, they only got yours. There was a good amount of damage taken to some of the rooms on either side though, but no one was hurt. The fire was put out, but there's no way you can stay there now. It's unlivable, but that's beside the point. I'm not sure if they meant to kill you or not, but I have the feeling they weren't. Otherwise, they would have just used a bomb while you were still in there, not gone to the trouble of gassing it first." He heard Aizawa groan. "Look, we've got some reasons and ideas, and we're going to meet at Ide's again to figure out what we're going to do and where you'll have to stay now. You're gonna be there too."

Matsuda stared unseeing at the sink in front of him, the water dripping slowly from the faucet.

"Yeah. See you," he croaked numbly, replacing the phone in its cradle without hearing Aizawa say goodbye.

Just as he lowered the receiver from his ear, he heard a click – the distinct sound of another phone on the same line being hung up.

He kept his fingers curled around the receiver.

Without turning, he said, "Sayu?"

"Yes?" He thought he heard her voice, quiet and tiny, coming from the stairway.

"Is there another phone up there?"

Nothing. The silence was an answer in itself.

"How much did you hear?"

Suddenly, she was there, right behind him. He hadn't even heard her cross the floor.

"All of it." She sounded strained, like she was either really, really angry, or she was trying not to sob. "Matsuda… what's going on?"

"I…can't tell you."

She moved so she was standing in front of him. "I heard what Aizawa said. Your apartment…and that man called Noboru…"

"I said I can't tell you anything," he repeated, backing up. "I-I need to go, Sayu. I'm sorry."

He backed into the counter and jumped, turning around and almost running out the door. Once outside, he started running back the way he came. He ran because he was trying to escape the betrayed look on Sayu's face. He ran because he knew Aizawa was going to give him hell when he arrived at whatever remained of his home. And he ran because he was more scared than he'd ever been in his life.


	8. Chapter 8

"_And I won't feel this when I am falling, we all need somebody that can mend these broken bones." –RevTheory "Broken Bones"_

Chapter Eight

The acrid stench of smoke and burning plastic polluted the air long before he stumbled up to his former apartment building.

_Oh my god…_

The complex itself was still on one piece, the only signs of damage being the charcoal appearance of half the front wall. He stared at what he figured used to be his window. It was hard to believe he'd sat there that morning, watching the sun rise and worrying about what had become of Aizawa.

A fire department truck was parked on the road, which had been blocked off by several police cars a few hundred yards away from the building. Angry horns blared, protesting the backup, despite the fact that several officers were pointing out a detour down a side street.

Matsuda saw Ide and Mogi standing next to each other with their arms crossed, watching thick tentacles of black smoke curling out of charred remains of his windows. Aizawa was standing nearby, talking to someone he didn't recognize, one hand clenched tight while the other waved animatedly in the man's face.

He didn't know what he should do. What he wanted was to disappear, quickly and quietly, and not ever be found. But then Aizawa turned his head a little too much over his shoulder and caught sight of him, standing there like the idiot he was.

"Matsuda!" Aizawa stomped over surprisingly quick, considering how stiffly he'd moved that morning. When he got closer, he raised his hand, and Matsuda flinched, figuring he was about to get slugged. Instead, he clapped him on the shoulder and exclaimed, "You damned fool! God, I thought you were dead!"

Matsuda suddenly couldn't respond, couldn't even speak as he realized just how close that could have been.

"_He's going to begin his reign with your execution…"_

Something didn't seem right. Did Noboru think his "reign" was already starting? Is that why he'd tried to kill him?

_No way, he can't be ready to make his move this fast…_

He put the thought out of his mind for now; there'd be enough time to discuss that later.

Aizawa stepped back, seeming to understand Matsuda's silence. He surprised him with a smirk.

"Kid," he said, wagging a finger in his face, "when I get over being happy to see you, I'm going to strangle you for all of this, you know." He swept an arm around, indicating the half-burned apartment, the blocked-off road, and the cops.

Matsuda gave a shaky laugh. "Yeah, sure, go ahead. I guess I deserve it."

He wasn't sure Aizawa had heard him. The smirk had faded from his face and he suddenly looked way too intense.

"Satoshi has assigned another detective to our team to replace you," he stated without ceremony.

"_Replace me_?"

"Yeah. Come on, Matsu, your apartment just got torched, okay? If the cops somehow know already that that was no accidental fire, then Satoshi knows too; he doesn't want you to remain on the force if it's gonna endanger your life."

_Ah yes. Of course, _he raged._ Not only did my apartment just get destroyed by some psychopath out to kill me, but now I just got kicked off the only team who'd be able to help me find him. Screw. This._

He crossed his arms and glared at his soaked tennis shoes.

"So that guy you were talking to just a minute ago…he's my replacement, isn't he?"

Aizawa sighed. "Don't take it that way, kid. It's better-"

"I told you not to call me that."

"Yes, he's your replacement," Aizawa groaned, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"You going to tell him everything about the Kira case?"

"As much as we have to, yes."

"How is he going to help you guys investigate all this if he doesn't know it all?" Matsuda asked defiantly, tilting his chin up. "Go ahead and tell him all of it. Tell him what I did. Don't spare any details."

Aizawa rolled his eyes. "I'm way too exhausted to deal with your whining. You should really get a life, Matsuda, and stop living in the past." He turned his back to him and started walking off. "It looks like you have bigger problems to worry about now anyway," he added as a parting shot, glancing pointedly over his shoulder at the steam and smoke rising from his home.

Matsuda just stood there staring after him in the watery darkness, complete understanding beginning to sink in. He _was_ whining. He _was_ an idiot. And he was totally alone.

...

"There goes your last piece. I win again for the third time in a row."

Ide was sitting across from him at his kitchen table, triumphantly dangling Matsuda's remaining black checker in front of his face.

"Again?" Matsuda groaned, leaning down to inspect the board, the neat little stacks of black checkers piled on Ide's side of the table.

"At least this game was longer than the other two."

Matsuda gave a half-grin. "Yeah, the others were probably fifteen minutes, and this one was sixteen."

It was a good thing Ide was so much easier to get along with than Aizawa. At least he'd had enough generosity to come up to him and offer to let him stay at his apartment. Matsuda hadn't realized how completely exhausted he was until he'd embarrassed himself when he nodded off on the drive over and Ide had to shake him awake.

He fidgeted a little in the black sweatpants and white t-shirt Ide had shoved at him, telling him he could wear that until his own clothes were finished in the dryer. They were sitting in his kitchen now, the red checkers Matsuda had managed to capture littering the polished round game table.

Ide tossed another spoonful of sugar into his coffee and absently began stirring it. "It's a good thing I didn't pull out my chess board. If you can't even survive a match of checkers, I would have creamed you at chess."

Matsuda stopped eyeing the checkerboard and sat up straight. "Not true," he said with a small smile. "My mom used to play against me all the time when I was younger, and when I went to university, I beat most of the guys in my dorm." He fingered the stout, square glass of whiskey and took a long sip; he knew one of the only reasons he was still functioning was because of the alcohol.

Ide smirked. "You're telling me you can play chess, but not checkers? Well, you won't beat _me_."

He stood up and walked into the living room. Matsuda watched him kneel on the carpet and rummage around under the TV for the chess set.

"Hey Ide?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks a lot for letting me crash here."

Ide juggled the box of chess pieces atop the board as he came back into the kitchen. "You've definitely said that more than twice now. So I'll say "don't mention it" again. It's not like I could leave you out there with that crazy after you."

"Aizawa didn't seem to have a problem with it," Matsuda huffed under his breath, picking at a loose thread on the t-shirt.

Ide sat down, took a sip of his coffee, and smirked. "That's because I told him beforehand that I'd let you stay with me."

_Nice going, jerkface,_ he told himself.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ide asked, eyes narrowed. When he got no response, he continued, "Yeah, I mean…he wanted to be able to keep an eye on you, but then there's Noboru, and what with his wife and daughter…"

"He didn't want them burned to cinders if Noboru tries to off me again," Matsuda figured. "I guess he must think you're indispensable," he added with a class-A Cheshire cat grin.

Ide rolled his eyes. "Well, he would have sent you to Mogi's, but he figured you two wouldn't say two words to each other. You know he is; he'd let you stew and mope and stuff all day long because the man just doesn't talk. So because of that, and Aizawa being a family guy, you got stuck with me."

Matsuda watched Ide lining up the satiny black pieces in neat rows of two. He reached over and gathered a handful of white pawns and started assembling them on his side of the board.

"He does care, you know," Ide said abruptly.

"Yeah, he cares that I stay in line so I don't make messes for the rest of you guys to clean up. Especially now that I got kicked off the force."

"It's not just that," Ide sighed. "Look, despite all your moping, and how you guys can't seem to have a conversation without it turning into an argument, he's only watching your back."

"Well, I never asked for a guard dog."

"Too bad, Matsu. Because I think you got one in him, whether you like it or not. I've known him a lot longer than you have, even back before this stupid Kira case. And I know that he can get mad and storm off, supposedly never to be seen again, but then when you need someone the most, he'll be there."

Matsuda sighed and set a rook down with a loud click. "I know he's a good guy, all right? You don't have to preach to me."

For a while, the only sounds were of the two men arranging their pieces on the stone chess board. Ide broke the silence.

"Oh, I meant to ask earlier: why were you soaking wet when you showed up at your apartment earlier?"

Matsuda winced, remembering that that today was February 1st, his breakdown in the rain, and the disastrous talk with Sayu.

"I was taking a walk."

"In that weather?"

Matsuda shrugged. "Rain never hurt anybody." He cracked his knuckles and challenged, "Forget it; let's do this."

"Your move. White's first."

"Nah, you can go."

Ide cocked a thin, almost non-existent eyebrow. "You sure? Haven't you ever heard of that first move advantage thing?"

Matsuda shrugged. "Yeah, but it seems dumb to me, since I've never noticed any benefit."

"Okay, well, it's your funeral then," Ide replied, sliding the pawn in front of his queen forward two spaces.

Within five minutes, Matsuda had captured two if Ide's pawns and a knight and had lost only one pawn himself.

"Sloppy, very sloppy," he teased, flashing the other man a smug grin.

Ide sat back and crossed his arms, glaring at the board. Matsuda saw his eyes light up, watched him lean over and knock out one of Matsuda's bishops with a rook. Ide tossed the piece in the air and snatched it again in a small victory celebration.

"I don't see why you're so happy," Matsuda said calmly, using his queen to capture the rook Ide had just used. "Rooks are better, and you just lost yours."

"Damn! I can't believe this, I was so sure I had that move nailed. Matsuda, you suck!"

"You suck" was an expression that even Matsuda had stopped using years ago, figuring he'd outgrown it since it was only something teenagers said to each other. Hearing Ide exclaim it struck him as hilariously funny for some reason. Maybe he was in some kind of shock or something, or maybe in denial about everything that was happening. But none of those things stopped him from laughing, loud and long and hard. It was the kind of giddy laugh that he always hated when he did it; he briefly wondered if Ide had slipped something into his drink.

He looked up and saw Ide staring at him, smirking.

"Matsu, you really are crazy," he chuckled. "But crazy or not, it's still good to see you laugh like that." Ide reached for his coffee mug and held it out. "Welcome back to the world of the living."

He smiled and tapped his glass against Ide's mug. "It's good to be back, even if my welcome is that Noboru guy burning up my place. Thanks, Ide."

_Going from sobbing in the streets, yelling at Aizawa, and now laughing like a madman with Ide…maybe I really _am_ losing it, _hethought wryly_. _He imagined himself shrugging_. Then fine, if being crazy is the only way I'll get through all this, that's okay with me._

"Just because you've cheered me up, doesn't mean I'm going to go any easier on you in this match," Matsuda declared, taking out another pawn with a flourish.

Ide gave a dramatic sigh. "Fair enough." He surprised Matsuda by capturing one of his rooks and both of his knights within a few quick turns.

"At the risk of bumming you out again, I'll take a chance and ask you what happened to Misa Amane."

Matsuda winced. "I have no idea. My guess is that she's still living in the apartment that she and Light shared."

"By herself?"

"I don't know. I…haven't checked up on her." He felt a twinge of guilt for ignoring the young woman. She was probably taking Light's death extraordinarily hard. "Was she at his funeral?"

"I actually don't think so," Ide said.

"That's weird. Maybe she's depressed…I mean, I wouldn't blame her." Matsuda killed a pawn that Ide was trying to sneak to the opposite edge of the board to reclaim one of his captured pieces.

"Anyway, what's my replacement like?" He asked, eager to change the subject.

Ide gave him a look, but went along with it. "His name's Kito Hiyashi. He's okay and all, but he's so…brash. Kind of like you, only ten times worse because he's mouthy."

Matsuda contemplated a tricky move with his queen before Ide decided to corner it. The guy was just as good a chess player as he was at checkers, his moves quick and aggressive.  
"And Aizawa's putting up with that?"

"He's not so bad around him. Mogi and I don't like him though."

"Wait, I don't get it. What kind of things does he say to you guys?"

Ide paused with his chin in his hands, like he was sifting through his responses to find the kindest possible one. "Well, to start with, he tried to schmooze me into telling him who Kira was, and when I wouldn't, he got mad and said he'd figure it out on his own. I didn't say anything, because I was kind of surprised. But you get the idea."

Matsuda captured another pawn. "He sounds like a pill. Do you think I'll be able to meet him?"

Ide shrugged as he casually took Matsuda's queen. "Maybe if you dropped by the station, although I don't know why you'd want to do that, since you're no longer on the force and would just get stuck with paperwork and stuff."

Matsuda ignored the smug look on Ide's face as he painstakingly placed the white queen on his side of the table.

"Hey Ide?"

"What?" He didn't even look up.

"Check mate."

"Wait, _what_! What the hell, Matsu!"

Ide's eyes were bugging out as he stared at the board. Sure enough, his king had been cornered by a pawn, Matsuda's last rook, and his bishop.

"Go on," he taunted. "Knock it over and surrender!" He pointed at the good-as-dead king.

Ide complied as he groaned, "I can't believe you won."

"Bet you didn't think I could do it. But your strategy was pretty easy to pick up on. You're all offense and no defense; you were so eager to attack, which is why you managed to get out a lot of my guys. But since you didn't watch your back well, I was able to dance around the board and pin down your king." He stood up and stretched. "Anyway, good game. You play hard."

"Thanks." Ide was collecting his black pieces and putting them back into their box. Matsuda sat back down and handed him several white pawns.

"So you're really okay with me staying here for a while?"

"It's not for long. We'll work something out. We're all meeting tomorrow, and I'm sure we'll be talking about this."

"I think I'm going to that too," Matsuda said, suddenly remembering their phone conversation. "At least, that's what Aizawa said."

"Oh, okay. Sounds fine to me." Ide finished with the chess set and carried the board and box of pieces back into the living room. "By the way, your clothes should be done drying."

Matsuda eyed the closet where the dryer and washer were located. The rhythmic thumping of the dryer must have stopped sometime during their match without him noticing it.

"I think so. Thanks for that too."

Ide walked into the kitchen, opened the closet, and fished Matsuda's clothes out of the dryer. Dumping the things into his arms, he said, "I'm going to call it a night. Change out of my stuff and leave it wherever. I'd offer you a bed, but there's only one, so you're stuck with the couch." He scratched the back of his head and added, "Feel free to watch TV or whatever. I don't care."

"I think I'll hit the sack too, if that's okay."

"Oh yeah, go ahead." Ide shrugged and pointed at the couch. Somehow, he'd gotten a blanket onto it without Matsuda noticing that either.

"Night," he said, heading for his room.

"Night, see'ya."

Ide hit the lights and the apartment blackened, save for the large lamp on an end table by the couch. Matsuda kicked off Ide's clothes, threw on his t-shirt and jeans, and made himself comfortable.

It was beyond weird, but despite the fact that he was essentially homeless and had lost everything he had, despite the fact that he could have died today and he had a long and unpleasant meeting to look forward to tomorrow, he went to sleep happy.

**_A/N: Look at that! An update on time! I'm really quite pleased with this chapter, so if you see anything wrong with it, don't hesitate to send me a review or PM. I also went back and added random quotes from stories or songs that happened to fit the mood of whatever chapter it was in. Thanks as always for reading!_**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

It was so warm and gray and comfortable in his fuzzy land of sleep; he would have been content to stay there forever. Unfortunately, Ide had other plans.

"Matsuda! For the last time, _get up!"_

Just as he became aware of the garbled shouting somewhere above him, he felt sharp smack in his shoulder. It didn't really hurt, but it suddenly make him very aware of the throbbing in his head. In confusion, he blinked up at Ide and squinted, the sunlight knifing into his eyes.

"What are you so mad for?" he mumbled.

"Because when I came in here a half hour ago to tell you to wake up, you nodded at me, and then you _went back to sleep!_ And of course, now we're going to be late," Ide huffed.

Matsuda sat up, groaning as the pain in his head swelled. He was gingerly massaging his eyes with his fingertips when Ide's last statement sunk in.

"Wait…huh? You never came in here earlier. This is the first time."

Ide gave a dramatic sigh and hung his head. "You don't remember me walking in here and telling you to get off my couch and get ready? Never mind, I shouldn't be surprised. You're clearly hung over, aren't you?"

Matsuda chuckled weakly. "Um…well, now that you mention it… my head does kind of hurt. A lot."

A comb appeared in his hands. "Just make yourself look presentable." Under his breath, he heard Ide add, "I can't believe I was dumb enough to give you booze. I should have stuck with coffee."

Matsuda slipped the comb into his pocket, silently counted to three, and forced himself to stand up. "Hey, I only had like, one glass…"

Ide gave him an exasperated look. "Try more along the lines of three and a half."

_That much, huh? Wow, guess I got pretty hammered last night._

Matsuda rubbed the back of his neck. "Um…oops?"

Ide slapped his palm against his face. "Oops, he says."

"Well, you're the one who kept refilling my glass." Matsuda rubbed his head again in another futile attempt to banish the pain. His hoodie and coat were draped over the back of a kitchen chair.

After he struggled into his hoodie, he threw the coat around his shoulders. "See? I'm ready."

Ide was still standing there, scrutinizing him.

"What?"

"It's just… your clothes and all…" Ide made a face and shifted, clearly uncomfortable.

Matsuda noticed Ide fiddling with his tie, pointedly brushing imaginary specks of dust from his blazer.

"Huh? Oh, that. Yeah, well...I can't do anything about it, because my suit and stuff is kind of a big pile of ashes now. I um…guess I'd better go shopping soon."

Ide just smirked and shook his head. "Which means I'll have to come, since you have no ride." He chuckled. "Matsu, you didn't even think to bring your _car_."

_Yeah, really. Way to go, moron._

"I uh…guess I forgot about it in all the craziness."

Ide crossed the room and held open for door to let Matsuda walk out before he locked it. They swept down the stairs and were soon on the road. Even this early, traffic in the city was already in full swing. Matsuda had been looking out the window, but he caught Ide looking at him sideways and decided to ignore it.

"Can you at least…comb your hair?" Ide eventually huffed.

"Oh…sorry," he sighed, fumbling the comb from his jeans pocket and raking it through his matted hair, completely mashed down on the left side, apparently where he'd slept.

"Hey, Matsu, has anyone told you yet that you're a mess?"

The random question caught him off guard. He lowered the comb and stared at Ide.

"Wh-what? I'm _that_ dirty?"

Ide sighed and drummed his fingers against the wheel, stopped at a traffic light. "It's not really that. I'm not talking about those bags under your eyes or the fact that your hair's a greasy mess. It's…" Ide waved a hand in frustration, like he couldn't find the right words. "It's just that you're not yourself. You don't act like you used to. You don't smile as much."

Matsuda made a face. "What about last night, when I kicked your butt at chess? I smiled plenty!"

"You know what I mean."

"No. I don't." He handed the comb back to Ide, who gestured towards the console on his side. Crossing his arms, he sat back in his seat.

"You're just…I don't know, different."

"So me realizing I need to grow up and act my age means there's something wrong with me?"

Ide hit the gas a little harder than necessary when the light changed. "Look, I'm not Aizawa, and unlike him, I'm not gonna start a big fight over every little thing. I'm only trying to say that we want the old you back. Is that so bad?"

_Well, what if I'm tired of being made fun of and getting called an idiot and messing up all the time? What if I don't want to be the "old me?" _he thought, wisely keeping it to himself.

"Hey, how's this, why don't we get you some clothes and a phone to replace what you lost in the fire, and get some lunch after. Make a day of it, you know?"

Matsuda stared at him, uncomfortably thinking how his last lunch out had ended.

"Um, that's nice of you, but I think I'll pass."

Ide snorted. "It's not like you have a bunch of stuff to do, especially now with your place gone. Heck, I'm just as bad; killing time is great with me."

"You'll have to take me to the bank too, so I can pay for this. Man, I'm sure glad I didn't keep my money in the apartment with me."

"You got that right," Ide agreed. "Now, how about that lunch?"

Matsuda got the distinct impression that Ide acting exactly like Aizawa: worrying too much, offering to feed him just so he could pick his brain over the meal. He shrugged.

"Maybe. We'll probably have "stuff to do" after the meeting today. You know how Aizawa is: resident slave driver." He smiled a little in spite of himself.

Ide cracked a grin too. "Yeah, you've got a point there…" He pulled into the lot for the NPA building and parked.

"Hurry up," he called, already half-jogging towards the main entrance. Matsuda was standing near the car, one hand against the door, trying to make his swimming head deal with the concept of standing up.

"Damn hangover," he muttered, walking unsteadily after Ide. "If I ever drink that much again, someone needs to shoot me."

Ide was leaning against the heavy glass door, holding it open.

"Just go in Matsuda told him. "Aren't you afraid of being late?"

Ide looked sheepish. "Actually, we're not as bad off as I thought we were. So since we're good, I might as well wait for you."

Matsuda felt a surge of gratitude.

_Yeah, I really need to make sure I don't mess things up with Ide. Besides him being my free room and board and all, he actually…cares. And at least he's not always yelling at me._

He made himself jog to catch up, even though it made the blood in his head roar. They walked down the large, open corridors and let themselves into the large room that served as the meeting place for the NPA. The whole place was pretty much deserted; it was Sunday after all, and since it was such a slow day, there were never many people occupying the halls.

The only people in the room were those on the Task Force. Matsuda noticed a tall, serious-looking young man as well, and assumed he was Kito Hiyashi. He suddenly felt chilled, felt an irrational fear that he was looking at the fourth Kira, Teru Mikami. Matsuda shook himself, blinked hard, and told himself to be rational.

_Dummy, Mikami is sitting in prison right now. This guy isn't him._

Even though Hiyashi's dark hair was a lot shorter than Mikami's and he didn't wear glasses, they shared the same cold, calculating eyes.

"Well, looks like everyone's here." Aizawa startled him by speaking up.

For some reason, he saw everyone looking at him, and he felt like he had to say something to break the awkwardness. "Um, yeah, I guess we are," he agreed with a weak chuckle.

Aizawa's eyes slid over to Hiyashi, who was analyzing Matsuda like a curious specimen under a microscope. "Oh yeah, and Matsuda, Kito Hiyashi. Hiyashi, Touta Matsuda."

Matsuda had no idea why taking suddenly seemed a task beyond him, but it was. He could only watch dumbly as Hiyashi smoothly crossed the tiled floor and extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you."

His voice was like his eyes, Matsuda thought. Cool and polished as a slab of granite, hardly any inflection in his tone, like it was forever stuck flat-lining.

He forced his tongue to work, and stuttered out a greeting of his own, watching the man go back to leaning up against the desk.

Aizawa folded his hands on the Chief's desk where he sat, sighed, and looked right at Matsuda.

"By now, everyone knows why we're here. The Kira case may be over, but now we've got a whole new problem to deal with. Hiyashi, I know you were briefed about the Kira case, but I don't think you were told anything about this one, so I'll try to start from the beginning."

Matsuda stared hard at him. How exactly did he think he was going to pull this off without giving away everything?

Aizawa fiddled with a pencil in one of the holders, pulling it out and rolling it between his fingers. "A man who's calling himself Noboru – and there's no way that's his real name – is planning to continue what Kira started: making a perfect world, free of all crime."

"That's absurd," Hiyashi snorted. "The world can never be that kind of utopia."

"Yeah, you're telling us," Aizawa agreed. "But that's not what Kira thought, and that's not what this Noboru guy thinks either. No matter how you look at it, Kira was a crazy mass murderer, and it looks like that's what Noboru's aiming for too."

Ide spoke up, a hand raised. "You may have told us before, but how exactly is he planning on doing that?"

"Don't know yet." Aizawa folded his hands into a little tent and leaned his chin against his fingertips, lowering his eyes.

I do know that beating me up the other night was him sending the message that he has the means to carry out all the threats he was spouting at me. It sounded like he was working on something, like he had some kind of weapon in mind to continue killing as Kira. He knows I'm with the NPA, and he was warning us to stay out of it. But then…why did he let me go?" He rubbed his eyes. "It's a mess however you look at it."

Hiyashi's response was merely to cock an eyebrow. "What you said…It's an interesting theory. But that's probably all it is – a theory."

Aizawa sighed. "Yeah…honestly, that's all I've got. It's not like I was given much to work with. Anyway, I've been spending most of my time trying to figure out what we're going to do with _him_."

Even past the ache in his head – which hadn't been getting any better – Matsuda was pretty sure Aizawa had just pointed directly at him, looking at him like he was just another problem on his never-ending list of chores to deal with.

"Um…me?"

"Yes, _you_. Right now, you don't have anywhere to live. You don't even have any clothes, besides what you're wearing!"

Matsuda glared at him. "It's not like I asked for this."

"That's what I'd like to know," Hiyashi interrupted. "I'm trying to put two and two together, and I'm getting five. How did Noboru know where Matsuda lived? Why in hell is he going after him in the first place?"

All four original Task Force members exchanged looks.

"At one point, he somehow got bugs and cameras into my car. I'd driven Matsuda somewhere, and then I had to take him back, so he saw exactly where his apartment was. And the reason he's being targeted specifically..." Aizawa sighed before continuing, "is because he killed Kira."

_That's right, Aizawa…tell it like it is…_

Right now, Matsuda's head hurt so much, he was practically in a state of half-lucidity. He wasn't even sure if he _had_ killed Kira or not. He just knew that Kira was Light, whom he'd shot again and again with the definite intention of killing him.

_All I want right now is to sleep. A nice long nap…maybe I'd never wake up. Guess that'd be good, for these guys at least._

"_You_ killed him?" Hiyashi turned on him, a look of disbelief in his mostly-expressionless eyes.

"Yeah." His reply was edgy and tense, sharp as the tip of a knife.

"Anyway." Matsuda could tell that Aizawa was using the loud word to break up the tenseness rapidly gathering in the room. "While we're talking about Matsuda, we might as well figure out where he's going to stay."

"He can just stay with me, you know," Ide volunteered, shrugging. "It's not like Noboru knows where I live."

"He could find out really easily," Aizawa pointed out.

"No…" Ide shook his head. "I don't think so."

Aizawa frowned. "What are you talking about? Your name, face, and contact information is probably somewhere on the Internet, just like ours. There's no way to keep stuff like that off it; it always gets there one way or another."

"That's not what I meant. Sure, he could find me easily. Fine, I get that, and am accepting whatever risks involved. Call me crazy, but from what I've heard both before and now, if Noboru has the men, resources, and know-how to bug an cop's car, know where you'd be and then follow you without being discovered for as long as he did, then if he wanted you dead, Matsuda, you would be."

Matsuda struggled to get his mind around the whole mess. "Wait a minute, what are you saying? Ide, it doesn't add up. If he hates me so much, he should want to kill me. That's what burning my apartment was: him trying to get rid of me. Unless…" He swallowed hard, spoke in a small voice, "You…you're not saying that what he did was just a threat…a message?"

"What is it with you people and reading hidden "messages" into every action of this guy?" Hiyashi scoffed. "He's insane; everything he does is just crazy."

Aizawa's lip curled into half a smirk. "Hiyashi, you weren't on the Kira case. He was a madman too, but almost everything he did was a taunt, a subtle threat, or a message."

"Look, it's settled. He'll stay with me," Ide broke in.

"No way." Matsuda protested feebly. "You're not gonna put yourself at risk for-"

"Oh, shut up. There's no other alternative, and you know it," Ide snapped.

"Ooh, zing," Hiyashi remarked.

Matsuda rounded his glare on Hiyashi, but before he could do anything, the main communication computer beeped once, then twice. The projector sheet hooked up to the computer monitor lit up with a blank, white light, a single stylized, black motif appearing in the center.

"L! Why the hell is _he_ calling?" Aizawa barked, mashing the button to push the call through.

"Hello everyone," the computerized voice rasped. "I wish I could say it's been a while, but unfortunately, it hasn't even been a week since we last spoke to one another." He paused. Matsuda could practically see the underage genius who'd beaten Kira, crouched on the floor absently twirling a strand of white hair around his finger. "I hear that there has been a…disturbance… that has a high probability of being related to the Kira case. Am I correct?"

_How the hell did he find out so fast?_

Judging by the expressions on everyone else's faces, Matsuda guessed they were all thinking the same thing.

"Yes, you're right. There have been some…problems since the closing of the case," Aizawa responded carefully.

"I thought so." Near paused, like he was sighing. "In that case, I would like you, Mr. Aizawa, to please write up everything that you have on this new case, place it in a computer file, and send it to me."

Aizawa fiddled with the pencil that was still in his hands. "You don't have to get involved," he said quietly. "We can handle this. There might not be any case at all to deal with. Everything just looks blown out of proportion because we don't have the big picture."

"Ah, but what if when you see this "big picture," it is already too late? What if by then, this has escalated into a worldwide problem, as with the Kira case? I had a feeling something like this would happen, that someone or maybe a group of someones would protest Kira's death with drastic action. Don't worry, there are no spies among you. Since I knew this was inevitable, I left a member of the SPK behind in Japan to keep an eye on things. According to that person, one of your homes has just been burned to such an extent that it is now unlivable. That home just happened to belong to Mr. Matsuda, whom we all know played an intricate part in Kira's demise."

Near paused again, but Matsuda sensed it was for effect, to let his words sink in deep.

"So please do not make such prideful assumptions, Mr. Aizawa. "Don't get involved," you say. Well, as you can see, we've been "involved" from the beginning, and just like with the previous case, we will finish this one quickly. We will take the fight to them."

"Wait, Nea-I mean, L! That last thing you said! What do you-"

"Remember what I said about that file, Mr. Aizawa," Near interrupted. "Everyone…good day."

The screen blacked out, and Near hung up.

"_Damn_ him," Aizawa snapped, slapping his desk open-palmed.

Hiyashi stared at him with a faint smirk. "Was it just me, or did that L guy just _seriously_ knock you down a peg?"

"Don't start, Hiyashi," he warned, an angry edge to his voice. Matsuda saw that his face was a dark red, the pencil that had been between his hands, snapped in half.

Abruptly, he leaned far back in his chair, took an exaggerated deep breath, and sat up normally again, just as quickly.

"Well, it looks like I've been assigned some _homework_ by our superior. I'm going to be kind of busy for a while, and since it seems that we've resolved any questions we'd planned to work out, you can all go." His voice was scathing. Matsuda didn't know why he seemed so frustrated and angry.

_Take the fight to them, huh? _

As they all silently filed out the door, Matsuda wasn't surprised. That always had been Near's default mode of operation: attack first, because whoever does is the one that wins. He wasn't sure if he felt exhilarated, terrified, or maybe just sick to his stomach because of his hangover, but he had a bad feeling that the situation was about to get a whole lot worse.

...

"Well, that wasn't much fun," Ide commented on the drive back to his apartment from the store.

"Are you talking about the shopping, or about the meeting before that?" Matsuda asked dryly.

"Both." Ide grimaced. "Getting clothes is something women are supposed to be for, right?"

"But you didn't get anything," Matsuda reminded him. "Actually, you ditched me and walked outside and just sat on the sidewalk! Then I had to get you to come back in to pay for the stuff."

"Maybe you should have taken more than you did out of the bank," Ide retorted.

Matsuda pretended he hadn't heard him, and shuddered. "God, I just know that the cashier thought we were gay."

"_Thanks_, Matsuda," Ide groaned, partially covering his face with one hand. "She was a looker too."

Matsuda cracked a grin. "Okay, so it's pretty obvious that so far, our day has sucked. At least my stupid hangover is pretty much gone."

"I still don't know how you got through that meeting this morning like that."

His response was just to shrug.

"Anyway, since you're feeling better, how about that lunch now?"

Matsuda thought about Aizawa alone in the NPA building, working hard on the case file for Near. He decidedly pushed thoughts of Noboru and the new case out of his mind.

_Aizawa's probably going to wind up as the next deputy director or something anyway, so all the extra work is his problem. Besides, he'd just yell at me or something for worrying about him. _

"Yeah, why not?" He agreed, grinning.

Even when they pulled up to a small restaurant a little later, still neither of them noticed the silver car that had been following them since they left the NPA building.

_**A/N: An update on Tuesday? Goodness, what can it mean? (It means that 'Mari is making up for failing her normal Thursday update schedule, that's what...) Anyway, I don't know why this chapter was so hard to get out...it's here now, so..**_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"_Lord, what fools these mortals be." –William Shakespeare_

A man stood by the huge window of a massive skyscraper, taking in the wide, sweeping view of Tokyo. Even behind the glass, he could imagine hearing the eternal bustle of the city, the sounds of millions of people rushing about in their overscheduled lives. He wondered if those people ever stopped to think about the smaller things in life, the questions no one ever bothered to ask: Why am I alive? To what purpose must I serve?

He felt a swell of protectiveness for them, but at the same time, a pure and unadulterated loathing for people like them. He wanted to protect them from the world's evils, but at the same time, knew they couldn't be any less worthy of such providence.

Looking down on the city, he wondered if any of them, if any one person down there in the tiny black threads that were the main roads of the city ever bothered to consider that they may or may not be alive within the next day, hour, moment. Any number of things in this world could take away the frail gift of life, but in big cities like Tokyo, the biggest factor of death was always crime.

The man clenched his fists, hanging loosely by his side, glared unseeing at the glass pane.

Yes, the true problem with this world had always been crime, and the criminals who carried them out.

He'd learned Kira's teachings well. It hadn't been very difficult, since it made such perfectly beautiful sense. But now Kira was dead, and the man who'd killed him, the ultimate criminal, would not go unpunished. He'd make sure of that.

Sudden beeping came from the speaker on his sleek black laptop. The man turned to see a video call appear onscreen.

"Noboru, I've successfully followed the targets away from the NPA headquarters to the Blue Rose Café. Everything is ready for the next stage in the plan."

...

Murderers, rapists, robbers…they all freely roamed the world, hidden among it's populous as easily as anyone else. Why shouldn't Kira be accepted? Why shouldn't he be allowed to kill them all? But if what scraps of intelligence he'd managed to gather were correct, along with his own theories and knowledge, his god was dead. In any case, he'd pretty much confirmed everything when he got a hold of that stupid cop, Aizawa.

_And it's very highly likely that he's still alive, despite Yuudai's treatment of him,_ Noboru mused as he crossed the room. _Even though we left him in the snow, that man is not dead. It seems highly unlikely that his two closest friends would be enjoying themselves at lunch if it were true._

He tapped a key on the laptop.

"Everything is ready, you said? Very good. Are the others with you?"

"Yes, sir. They're both heavily armed, and will assist me if the target resists."

Noboru absently brushed his long fingers against the keys, contemplating a reply.

"I believe that Mr. Matsuda is not alone, correct?"

"Yes sir. The detective, Hideki Ide is with him."

Noboru smirked. "Dispose of him. He is of the police after all, and we have no use for him."

"Sir, yes sir!"

Noboru ended the call, the screen blanking out again. He paced in front of the full length mirror, making sure he'd gotten everything right. Of course he had; he'd gone over the details of this plan for years, all in preparation for the exact event of Kira's demise. He'd predicted the death of their god, and it had happened. History always repeats itself. Like he had told Aizawa, it happened once several thousand years ago with the Christian's "Messiah," and it has happened again. Predicting the outcome had been simple. Making his first official move on the public should be a cakewalk compared to everything else he still had to do.

With that reassurance, he paused and assessed the reflection in his mirror. If all went according to plan, there would be a very important dinner meeting tonight with an even more important guest of honor. He had to look his part, after all.

The striped blue, white, and black tie was loosened and dangled freely around his bare neck, the collar of his teal satin shirt open. He pulled a comb out of his breast pocket and smoothed back his long black hair, tying it into a neat ponytail, then painstakingly did up the shirt buttons and retied his tie, made sure that the pressed white slacks had remained as spotless as they had been when he'd bought them last week. Noboru made a face in the mirror. It had cost him a fortune for this outfit, but presentation truly was critical in the eyes of the fickle crowd.

He thought back on his conversation with his lieutenant. _Eventually, all of them will have to start addressing me as, "my lord." "Sir" gets rather grating after a while._

He strode back to the window, smiling at the knowledge that right about now, the little Blue Rose Café' would be in a terrible frenzy thanks to the work of Yuudai and his trusted subordinates. _Yes, he is a good man, a very loyal man. I must be sure to deal well with him once my reign is asserted. _

He crossed and uncrossed his arms, stretched, and walked over to the telephone on the polished wooden end-table. Ringing one of the many women who kept his headquarters building presentable, he impatiently drummed his fingers against the table until she picked up.

"Yes, sir?"

"Elaborately set the main dining room with a large table with two place settings, then go downtown to the nicest restaurant you see and have them cater a meal here."

"As you wish, sir."

Noboru hung up with a self-satisfied smile. Why was he even the slightest bit apprehensive earlier? Everything was going according to plan.

Within the hour, it would be time for him to have a nice, long talk with Touta Matsuda.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

"You know, the last time I was eating lunch out, just like a regular guy or something, was when I did my biggest screwup yet."

Ide shot him a look. "You mean the one that started this whole mess?"

"That's the one."

Ide sighed. "Don't talk with your mouth full," he said, pointing at the piece of hand-roll Matsuda had just stuffed in his mouth.

"Well, it's true. I just figured I'd tell you why I had an aversion to going out earlier. Not because I'm mad at you or anything, but because of what happened last time." He made a face and half-grinned. "Man, Aizawa was _so_ mad at me."

Ide fingered his spoon before taking a sip of it. "Yeah, I sure believe it."

"He was so mad, he hit me," Matsuda added, smirking. The look on Ide's face was incredulous, so he added, "I sort of deserved it, since I was mouthing off to him, even though I knew he was already madder than a hornet."

"Matsu, when _don't_ you deserve everything you get?" Ide added, smirking at him over the rim of his coffee cup.

Matsuda was about to retort, but realized he couldn't; the guy had a point, after all.

He was still stewing, trying to think of times when he wasn't responsible for something blowing up. He'd just remembered why he was sitting here with Ide in the first place, why they were sharing an apartment.

_Ha! At least I didn't have anything to do with my place getting torched._

He was about to declare that thought to Ide, when he saw something that completely erased all thought of clearing his name. Sayu was walking through the doors of the Blue Rose Café' with an older woman he didn't recognize and Rina Takaya.

His stomach hit the floor.

_You know what? My luck with girls sucks,_ he thought irritably.

"Isn't that Sayu Yagami?" Ide jabbed his spoon towards them in a very unsubtle gesture.

"Yeah," he mumbled, lowering his head. "Can we just…lay low? I don't want to talk to her."

Ide smirked. "Girl trouble, huh?"

Matsuda jerked upright in his chair, mortified. "What? No, no, no, it's not like that. I'm not seeing her or anything!" he protested.

"Matsuda?"

He winced and turned around slowly. "Um…hi, Sayu." He felt incredibly flustered, felt his face heating up, and told himself it was because how their last conversation had ended. It was easier to think that anyway, rather than admit that it was because of how…_nice_…she looked. She was smiling at him, almost like the way she used to, the rings under her eyes less prominent. She was wearing a pair of khakis and a ruffled yellow blouse and carrying a large green and yellow purse; the whole outfit was understated, but somehow lovely.

_Just like her._

He swallowed hard and wondered where the hell _that_ thought had come from.

_Talk like an intellectual, you moron_, he ordered himself.

"Uh…funny seeing you here," he added after an incredibly awkward pause.

"Yeah, you too." Matsuda noticed she was holding Rina's hand.

Sayu must have followed his eyes. "Oh, this is…" her voice trailed off, and something in her face changed, like she suddenly remembered what started their discussion in her dark kitchen, Rina, and Aizawa's phone call. "Well, I guess you already know her," she finished quietly.

"I…do." His voice sounded choked, even to him.

_Get a grip!_

Determined to be as polite, as normal as possible, he waved. "Hi Rina. Long time no see."

"Hi Mr. Matsuda," she said, nodding at him with her dainty, doll-like head.

Sayu shuffled her feet, but seemed to recall her manners, gesturing towards the other woman. "Oh, and this is Rina's mother." She swept her hand towards Matsuda and Ide. "And that's Touta Matsuda and…" she stared at Ide. "I…forget your first name," she said quietly, a pained smile on her face.

"Hideki. But that's fine, I'm so used to being called by my last name anyway," Ide said, his hands out in a placating gesture.

A few more somewhat-awkward pleasantries were exchanged.

"Well…enjoy your lunch," Sayu said, waving. "We'd better sit down and order ours."

Matsuda forced a smile and waved back. "Yeah, see you around."

He waited until they were far enough away before letting out a huge sigh.

"That looked tense," Ide remarked.

"Tell me about it."

"You _could_ tell me about it," Ide said coyly. "Come on, Matsu, you heartbreaker. What have you done to that poor girl?"

Matsuda tensed_. I took her brother away from her. I let her father be killed._

"I…uh…it's nothing. We just tried talking the other day, and it didn't work out."

Ide's smirk got bigger. Matsuda wondered why he was trying to be so funny. It's not like there was anything between him and Sayu. He'd blown any chance of that already.

"Now I really wanna hear what's up," he was saying now, leaning forward.

Matsuda looked up and gave him a stone-hard look. "It's not really your business, okay?"

Ide laughed. "You do realize I'm only busting your chops as revenge for your constant asking me if I was ever in love during the case, right?"

Matsuda forced a smile. Put that way, he really couldn't be angry. "Look, Ide, just-"

Something crashed through the glass window, interrupting him. The shards of glass exploded outwards, and they were close enough to the window to get cut by a few of them.

"What the hell was that?" Ide shouted.

Matsuda stared at the little object that had been hurled into the café. He barely had a second to look at it before there was a soft pop, and dark red smoke hissed from the canister.

"A smoke grenade!"

_What the hell is this?_ He thought frantically as he coughed, an arm across his nose. All around them, they heard other people shrieking and calling each other's names. The smoke made any sight past your own hand absolutely impossible.

"Ide!" He yelled. He knew he was sitting right across from him, but he couldn't see him. "Ide!"

Then he saw something that made his heart nearly stop.

A tall man in a gas-mask was coming towards him. There were two more men behind him, also wearing masks, large automatic weapons in hand.

_Oh god…Noboru…this is…this is…_

The unarmed man shouted, "Nobody move! Don't move, unless you want my men here to start firing randomly into the smoke."

Matsuda wondered how he could be sure anyone complied. After all, it was still pretty impossible to see anything.

"Apprehend the first target, Sergeant. As for the second, activate the fans so we can see him."

_Targets?_

He couldn't see exactly how they'd done it, but suddenly there was an area of about ten feet cleared of smoke. Ide was standing by his chair, tense and stock-still, horror on his face.

With clear sight now, one of the armed men clamped down on Matsuda's arm. His grip was like a vice. "You will be coming with us, Touta Matsuda."

Past the panic choking him, he saw the other man level his weapon at Ide.

The man without a weapon had been standing silently with his arms crossed behind his back until now. "Dispose of him. The less NPA that are alive, the better."

A white-hot surge of desperation and terror flooded through his limbs. Matsuda jerked away from the man at his arm.

"Ide!" he screamed. "Go!"

The gun went off with a series of loud pops. He saw blood flash past, felt a tugging in his arm, and knew he'd either been shot or grazed by one of the rounds. The man who'd lost his grip on him had yelled when he broke away, but it was nowhere near as loud as Matsuda's cry when he saw Ide. The man was half-sprawled on the ground, bits of glass and debris around him, blood pooling from a spot just to the left of his right shoulder, dangerously close to his heart.

"You _bastards_!" He screamed, whirling around and punching one of the armed men in the face as hard as he could. He felt something crack and smash under his fist, saw a bright trail of blood hang in the air, and the man toppled to the ground.

The unarmed man had stood there unphased through the whole thing. Now he calmly, firmly, dangerously repeated, "Apprehend the target."

Matsuda thought he saw something shift in the smoke, and he seized up.

_More of them? No, no, no!_

He backed up as far as he could go, bumping into the table, stomach lurching when he stepped in a bit of Ide's blood. "Ide! Ide, get up!"

"You idiot! They want _you_! Run! Don't try to be the goddamned hero here, Matsuda! Run!"

He watched the men advancing. He watched the still-standing man point his gun at Ide. And he knew he could never run away.

"Finish off the detective," the unarmed man said.

Matsuda saw something fly out of the smoke, and he thought for sure then that he was hallucinating. It was large, with green and yellow stripes, and there was a white, feminine hand curled around the handle. It was…it was…

"Sayu! What are you _doing_?" he shrieked. "Get out of here!"

Her outline was shakily visible behind the curtain of smoke. She clutched the handbag close to her body, watched the man fall. He suspected the blow wasn't that hard, but he was just caught off-guard.

"Go!" She choked out. Even amid all the chaos, he could tell she was crying. He heard it in her voice.

Suddenly, she went out of sight, which was probably a good thing, since the man who he'd slugged had rolled over and grabbed for his gun, firing off a few shots in her direction.

"Sayu!" he screamed.

He whipped around and saw Ide crawling off into the smoke, lying on his stomach and leaving a blood trail behind him. He thought he saw Sayu's dark form in the smoke near him, but he wasn't sure.

"Kill them."

He stared at the unarmed man who'd spoken, whom he now knew was their leader. "No, no don't! Please!" he begged, flying at him.

The man merely took a calm step back and watched as his men seized their weapons and started firing at will.

"_No_!" Matsuda's throat was hoarse now. "Ide! Sayu! Answer me!"

"It's useless," the man said laconically. "It's impossible for them to have survived that. Your friends are dead, Matsuda, and now it's time for us to go."

Furious tears coursed down his face as he half-sobbed, "Noboru! You monster! You _bastard_! I'll _kill_-"

"Sergeant!" The man barked.

There was a sudden crack on his head. It hurt so much that it tore away all other thought except the explosion of pain, and the stark terror that filled him even as he lost consciousness.

**_A/N: Wow, two chapters for an update! Consider it an apology for the day-late posting, and the fact that Chapter Ten was really, really short; I figured you guys would eat me if that's all I left you with. ANyway, so...sorry again for being late, but was worth it to me; computer camp was AWESOME! xD Peace out! Reviews are appreciated!_**


	12. Chapter 12

"_You are standing in the eye of the storm. Move an inch, and you'll be dead."_

Chapter Twelve

When Matsuda woke up, he found himself in a large white bed. With a choked cry, he flailed his arms and jumped up, expecting to be held down by handcuffs or something He lifted his wrists and stared at them dumbly. No restraints at all.

_Okay, that's beyond weird…_

He realized he was standing hunched over, hands half-raised to his head, like he was taking cover from gunshots. Feeling stupid, he relaxed slightly and looked around.

_Seems a little too accommodating to be a prison,_ he mused, rubbing the toe of his sneaker – now scuffed and dirty – along the cream-colored carpeting.

Matsuda scratched his aching head and tried to remember how he'd gotten here.

_Oh my god, Ide and Sayu!_

He clutched his hair and unconsciously began pacing in an agitated circle. They _couldn't_ be dead. There was no way; he'd never be able to forgive himself.

His stomach churned, and he clapped a hand over his mouth._ What have I done? _

The phone rang. Matsuda hardly heard it, but when it continued to ring, persistent and shrill, he picked it up.

The voice on the other end was clipped, precise, and definitely feminine. "Mr. Matsuda, please exit your room and come down the hall to room number you."

"Wait!"

"Yes?"

"I'm…I'm really confused right now. Who are you? And why am I here?"

"Sorry, Mr. Matsuda, I'm merely a worker in this office building. When you do as I asked, you'll know why you're here."

"Please, you must know more! My friends, that man and girl with me, are they dead?" Matsuda had a feeling he should just shut up, quit while he was ahead, but he was grasping at straws. He'd give anything to at least hear someone's voice, someone who might have information.

"I'm sorry, but that's all I was told to tell you." The woman's voice sounded colder. "Good-bye."

He groaned and slammed the phone down so hard that it hopped off the nightstand and crashed onto the floor.

_If I really was just kidnapped by Noboru, then that means I'm in his headquarters right now. That's what he wanted right? So when I go to that "office" she mentioned, I'll probably just get gunned down right there._

Matsuda swallowed and stomped over to the door. If that was what was going to happen, then fine. He was tired of having his strings jerked.

The brushed silver door handle opened too easily; he jerked it hard and ended up stumbling out of the room, arms flailing. He drew his arm back, but resisted the urge to slam the thing shut. Instead, he straightened and examined the long, sweeping hallway. His breath caught as he gawked at the enormity of the place.

In many ways, it resembled the massive headquarters that the Task Force had used for the Kira investigation. Matsuda forced himself to start walking, even though he had no idea where he was really going. His sneakers made muffled shuffling sounds against the tiled granite floor, which was brilliantly polished. The end of the hallway opened up, and he found himself standing in a huge room, several staircases at the far corners. Walkways with glass guard-rails sprouted from the stairs and vanished off into the far interior of the building. Tall white support pillars met with horizontal cross-beams that spider-webbed across the ceiling.

And then Matsuda realized that he had no idea where 52B was.

_Yeah…I'm totally lost, aren't I?_

Matsuda clenched his fists and suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to cry like a child. Sayu and Ide were probably dead, he'd been kidnapped, and he had absolutely no idea where he was, wandering around the huge building like a fool.

_Sayu and Ide, Sayu and Ide…_

He stood ridged in the middle of the room, head hung down. His hair was messy and sweaty and stuck to his forehead, and he was starting to shake and wasn't even aware of it. He saw himself in the car with Ide, complaining about their shopping trip, and the uncharacteristically mischievous look on Ide's face when he was trying to get Matsuda to tell him the story behind Sayu at the café.

He swallowed hard past the miniature desert in his throat. _I wish I'd told him…Maybe I could have gotten some advice…No, I should have told him because of how he's helping me out. Because he's letting me live with him. Because he's my _friend_._

He felt his fingers digging hard into his leg, gripping folds of jeans and skin.

_And Sayu… I guess she really meant she'd…do anything…for me…_

Matsuda didn't know when he'd dropped to his knees, but there he was, on the cold hard floor, just like he'd been on January 28th. He couldn't imagine how Sayu had figured out where Noboru and his men were in all the smoke and confusion, but what really got to him was how she'd managed to get up the guts to hit that man in the back of the head with her purse.

_God…she did that even after what she went through with Mello and her abduction, and what it did to her afterwards..._It was that promise, he realized. That damned promise she'd made him during the storm at her house. How she'd do anything, _anything_ to help him for killing Kira. Even breaking past sheer terror to save his friend's life. Even dying for him. And it was all because of him.

Without warning, his stomach heaved and he spat a few mouthfuls of bile and bits of his lunch onto the spotless tile. He ended up on his hands and knees, eyes screwed shut, panting, wondering what in _hell_ he was going to do now.

"I've got to get that cleaned up now, thanks to you," someone sighed.

Matsuda gasped and all but jumped to his feet, which he instantly regretted. His head spun so badly that for a second, he thought he'd end up back on the floor. As it was, the only intelligent reply he came up with was, "Uh…what?"

Before the person could answer, he remembered his anger. It flooded through him like raging, boiling water and he relished it, let it give him strength. "Who the hell _are_ you? What do you want?" he demanded.

Matsuda had been glaring around the room, seeing no one. He spun in a small, agitated circle. "Where are you, you stupid bastard?" he cried.

"Well, that was rude."

Matsuda could swear he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His breath caught as he spun around. About ten feet away from him stood a tall man in a glaring white suit. It was offset by a teal shirt and tie, which was the only bit of color on him. His black hair was pulled back and probably pretty long, but Matsuda couldn't tell from where he stood.

"You're…Noboru." His voice was surprisingly steady.

The man nodded slowly, like he was permanently stuck in slow-motion. "So I see you're not a total fool, as you're made out to be."

Matsuda blinked. _A yes or a no would have been nice…_

"Yes, I am Noboru, and you're my personal guest, Mr. Matsuda."

"Personal…guest?"

"Indeed, Kira-killer. Now please come with me, I have dinner prepared. You're hungry, I trust? I doubt you had the chance to finish that lunch of yours earlier."

A surge of fury and indignation swept through him. "No thanks to you!" he spat.

Noboru had begun walking, but at Matsuda's accusation, turned around and cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, don't look at me. That was my subordinate who did all the handiwork down there. It seems like it went off quite well, don't you think?"

"Don't screw with me, all right?" Matsuda snarled. "I don't care if you were the one there or not. _You_ ordered it. _You_ had my friends killed."

Noboru tapped a slender, girlish finger against his chin. "From what I hear, if they hadn't interfered, they would still be alive."

Matsuda felt himself shaking. He still couldn't believe Ide and Sayu were dead. _Of all the things I've done, of all the screwups I've made…they can't pay for my mistakes. They just can't!_

"Why?" He meant to shout it, boldly and without regret, but it ended up coming out soft, sad, defeated.

"Why _what_?" Noboru sighed.

"Why did you kill them? Why did you bring me here? And what the _hell_ do you think you're gonna accomplish trying to be Kira? If you didn't know already, trying to play God didn't work out so well for the _real_ Kira!"

The stupid, scrawny punk actually had the nerve to smirk. "Well that, my friend, is something I'll answer over dinner." Noboru swept an arm out in front of him. Matsuda could see a spacious room just ahead, and wondered why he'd missed it before. "Care to join me?"

_No, I don't._ _I'd rather starve._ He wanted to stand stock still, longed to have the guts to actually say the words. But there was something in Noboru's expression that stopped him.

_There's no doubt that this is the guy, _he thought grimly. _All this time, I kept picturing him as some kind of Mikami duplicate…but really, Noboru is totally different…_

No less dangerous though, he reminded himself as he woodenly trailed behind the other man. _Something about how his eyes darken when he looks at me, like he's…restraining himself from trying to rip me to bits…_

Noboru's white shoes clacked crisply against the floor as he made his way over to a large table in the middle of a partially-enclosed room. Matsuda roughly pulled out the only other chair and dropped into it, glaring down at the platter of ridiculously high-end sushi in front of him. He watched Noboru delicately pick up his chopsticks.

"Eat," he said.

"Not. Hungry."

Noboru rolled his eyes and sighed. "You are acting so petulant. How _old_ are you, Mr. Matsuda? Fifteen?"

Matsuda figured it was just a rhetorical question. If this guy knew so much about him, then he knew something as simple as his age. He crossed his arms and glared at him.

"So?" His voice rang loudly around the room. "We're here now, in your stupid dining room. So what do you want to tell me? No, wait, I have a better question. Why don't you just kill me while you can?"

"While I can?"

"Yeah," Matsuda continued bitterly. "You've got me here, so just end it. I'd rather that than you holding me over my friends' heads as leverage or bait or something."

"Bait? I'm not trying to trap any of those inconsequential fools." Noboru raised his hands innocently, chopsticks protruding from between the fingers of his left. "After our discussion, I will have one of my men take you back to where you were."

Matsuda gripped his arms tighter. "Then why did you capture me in the first place?" he practically shouted.

"I just told you. We needed to have a talk." The calmness in Noboru's voice was infuriating to him. It was as soft and as unruffled as a man gently explaining the simplest of concepts to a child.

"There's nothing to talk about!" Matsuda exploded, jumping to his feet and shoving the plate of sushi off the table. It shattered loudly, but he barely heard it. "If you're gonna try to bargain with me, forget it! I hate Kira, and if that's who you're trying to be, count me out!" His head pounded, and he was shaking like a leaf in the wind; he suspected if it weren't for his anger, he would have passed out by now.

"And if you're gonna try to use me to get to the Task Force or the NPA…" His voice started shaking without warning. _Focus, you moron!_

"I won't let you. I won't be a pawn in your plan. I'll kill myself before I let you do anything to them."

Noboru was openly smirking now. "Ahh, I see!" He declared dramatically, with way too much enthusiasm. "I _see_! You're one of those complete idiots who would do anything to keep the people you care for safe. So…what, then? The people on the Task Force, whom you worked closely with during the Kira case are dear to you, are they?" Noboru folded his hands behind his head and leaned back. "Well, I thank you for that. Threatening you or whatever torture I could come up with may be useless against you, but your friends are clearly your weak point." Noboru tapped his finger to the side of his face. "You know, you really should get better at hiding things like that…"

Matsuda could only glare at him. What else could he say?

"As touching as this is," Noboru continued, sitting up straight and fixing Matsuda with a cold look, "we must continue. The reason I brought you here wasn't to hear your noble sentiments, but for me to tell you a thing or two of my own."

"Why?" he challenged. "If you really are planning to let me go, you have to know I'll just tell everyone what you tell me."

"Certainly." Noboru absently rubbed the pad of his finger along a chopstick. "That's the point. I can't very well waltz into your little headquarters myself. Well, at least not yet. But until then, you will have to be my little messenger. Simple enough, I hope?"

Matsuda resolved to just ignore the insult. "You're…going to tell me everything, and have me relay the information back to the Japanese police?"

"Well, not everything," Noboru amended with a small shrug. "There are still…kinks…in my plans that must be worked out." He leaned forward and folded his hands into a tent atop the table. "One of the first things to take care of are you foolish police forces, especially the NPA and task force. Your friends will be one of the first to go."

_Go? What the hell is he talking about? _Sweat slid down Matsuda's face and trickled down his neck and back, making him itch. He felt his mind slipping, felt the familiar tug of sheer panic pulling at him. _No! No, calm down! He doesn't know about L, about Near. Even if he somehow knows the original L is dead, it won't matter, because he still can't get any information on Near._

"Yes, that's right. I see you're putting it together, aren't you, Mr. Matsuda? To be the god of the world, I must punish evil. And just what could be more evil and loathsome than the murder of the man who was trying to become god before me?"

Matsuda sucked in a breath. "N-no…you can't…without Kira's power, there's no way you could…"

Noboru grinned. Matsuda noticed how perfectly white and straight his teeth were, like polished bits of bone. He was the picture of a god, just like Light had been.

"You really are dense. You don't get it. I have my own methods, my own plan, and my own "powers" in place. Soon, it will all happen soon, but both you and even myself must be patient." His grin got bigger. "Don't worry. You will have a front-row seat to witness what I do. Too bad you had to murder Kira. Otherwise, I would have probably let you live in my perfect world of paradise." Noboru took a long sip of tea, like this was becoming tiresome. "Too bad," he said again.

Matsuda wanted to ask him something else, but he could only make strangled sounds at the back of his throat, like he'd lost the ability to think and speak. _Dammit, brain! Knock it off!_

"That's really all I want you to tell the others at this time. Who knows? Maybe I'll bring you back here again, and maybe kill that upstart-detective, Mr. Aizawa something-or-other in the process, just like I did to Hideki Ide. Mr. Aizawa really was a pain."

"Stay away from him!" Matsuda snapped.

Noboru sighed. "When will you understand that you're not the one giving the orders here?" He waved a hand in a dismissing gesture. "No matter. I find this meeting beginning to drag. That's all for now. I'll page someone to take you back into town." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device that looked like a cell phone, pressing the single yellow button on its face.

"Wait," Matsuda choked out. "My…my apartment. Why did you burn it? You just said you wanted to keep me alive, but…weren't you trying to kill me then?"

Noboru scoffed. "If you haven't figured it out yet, if I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

_Same as Ide said…_

"So…it was another…message? To me?"

"Exactly!" Noboru spread his arms proudly.

Matsuda saw someone in a dark, fitted suit walking up behind Noboru. The man was tall, broad, and clean-shaven, a pair of black sunglasses obscuring his eyes, and a pair in his large hand.

"Well, now, Mr. Matsuda, it was a pleasure meeting you," Noboru purred. "I'm afraid you'll need to put those glasses on so you don't happen to find out where we're stationed. You'll be returned to the Blue Rose, and from there, you may carry on with your miserable life until I have need of you again."

The black glasses were shoved into Matsuda's hand. When he put them on, the last image he had of Noboru was his self-satisfied smirk.

"Goodbye, Touta Matsuda. We'll meet again very soon, I am sure."

_**A/N: Oh my goodness, two and a half weeks... *facepalm* Apologies, apologies, everyone. Thanks for sticking with me and this story! Reviews are always appreciated, and I thank all of you, even if I don't always get a chance to personally write a message. That goes for you anymous reviewers as well; thanks to you all! :)**_

_**Oh, and...don't expect an update this Thursday . There's no way I'll be able to crank out the next chapter in four days...**_

_**And yes, we will find out Ide and Sayu's definite fate. I realize I'm being cruel by withholding that information for another chapter..!**_


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